


Friends in Need

by AmberBrown



Series: Earning Their Keep [37]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Bully, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:47:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23889199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmberBrown/pseuds/AmberBrown
Summary: An old friend of Aramis' needs some held to deal with a nasty neighbour.
Relationships: Aramis/d'Artagnan
Series: Earning Their Keep [37]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/872385
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I really thought I had come to the end of this series with the last story as it tidied things up and finished on a high note. But… I already had this story half-written and have now finished it. As an experiment, I wrote it all from my OC’s POV’s. 
> 
> If you have not read the rest of my series this should stand alone, other events are mentioned but you don’t need to have read them. All you need to know is that Aramis and d’Artagnan are in an established relationship. Louis-Charles was the first man Aramis was with as a young cadet.

Prologue 

Benoit counted the bricks on the wall opposite him. He had already counted the bricks several times. He knew how many there were. But if he stopped counting the bricks, he would think about what was really happening to him. And Benoit did not want to do that. 

He did not want to remember the hooded men grabbing him from his horse and dragging him into the woods, forcing him down onto the ground and tying his wrists behind him. He did not want to remember the total terror he felt. The fear that had made him freeze. He could not have resisted the men even if he had wanted to. The crippling fear had consumed him so completely he probably would have allowed them to cut off his arm without any attempt to fight back. 

Benoit was not a fighter. He had never struck another man. He had verbally sparred with men, he was good with his words, he was quick-witted. But he was not a fighter. He did not know the first thing about fighting. When they had lived in Paris he had seen the occasional fight, but he was always one of the first to move away from anything like that, preferring to leave the peacekeeping to the soldiers, the men that were trained to go towards danger. 

The hooded men that had grabbed him had been given no cause to hurt him, but that had not stopped them from kicking him and pushing him about as they restrained him. They had forced him back to his feet, covered his eyes with a blindfold and walked him away. They had kept a firm hold of him, stopping him from crashing to the floor each time he had stumbled. 

The soft earth of the wood on the estate had been replaced by gravel then stone. He had been forced down some steps and tripped to the floor again. The blindfold had been removed, but he had not been able to see anything, the room he had been taken to was dimly lit. Not that he would have been able to look around at that moment. The men were pinning him to the ground firmly. One man had his hand on the side of Benoit’s head, pushing him down. 

The terror he felt had left him breathing fast, taking short gasping breaths. When he felt his hair being pulled to the side followed by an uncomfortable tugging, he could not work out what was going on. 

The men had proceeded to untie him and pull his expensive doublet off him, twisting his arms in the process. 

With a final kick in the side, the men had left him alone, a creaking door closing and the sound of a key turning in a heavy lock the last things he heard. 

Benoit had lain on the floor for several minutes, his fingers clutching at the stone floor. He had become accustomed to the dim light, he had looked around, finding nothing in the room. The poor light was coming from a dirty window at the top of one wall. He knew he was in a cellar, but he did not know where. 

As he had calmed his breathing a little Benoit had moved his hand to the side of his head, he felt his hair, realising with a gasp what the men had done to him. They had cut off a chunk of his dark curled hair.

Benoit had begun to get an idea of why he had been taken by the men and who they worked for. 

He had no idea how Louis-Charles would react. He had shuffled to the wall and leaned on it, bringing his knees up tightly to his chest, hugging himself, trying not to shake with fear. 

He had stared at the bricks on the opposite wall, the light was bright enough for him to make out each one.

Now, as he finished counting them again, he wondered how many times he had counted them. 

They had fed him a couple of times. A hatch at the base of the door had been lifted and one of the men had put a chunk of bread on the floor. When he had picked up the bread, he realised it had been dipped in water. Much as it was awful to eat, Benoit forced himself. 

He had lost track of the time, he knew it was probably not very long, but it felt like an eternity. He wondered what Louis-Charles was doing? Was he going to give in to the demands? Benoit hoped not, although he did not like being used, he did not want Louis-Charles to be forced to do something he did not want to in order to save him. 

Benoit went back to counting the bricks for a few moments. 

The sound of the men approaching made him look towards the door. He wondered if he was about to find out what Louis-Charles had done.

He moved to the corner of the room, as far away from the men as he could get. They had sniggered when they saw him huddled in the corner the first few times they had opened the door to check on him, but he did not care, any distance between him and them was better than none.

The door was pushed open. He watched as the man with the gun levelled it at him, something that did not usually happen. The gunman stepped into the room, then stepped to the side. Three more men entered the room. Two more hooded figures and one man held firmly between them. The man had been blindfolded, gagged and his wrists were tied tightly behind him. Benoit watched as the man was pushed to the ground, he could see the man had been beaten, his shirt had ridden up on one side revealing bruises across the man’s body. The hooded men retreated from the room, the gunman followed them, pulling the door closed as he went. The key was turned in the lock. 

Benoit and the new prisoner were alone. 

The blindfolded man was trying to calm his breathing. Benoit watched as the man started to move his legs, trying to pull himself up onto his knees. Benoit moved forward, reaching out to the man who looked in his direction blindly.

‘It’s alright,’ he said, his voice sounded croaky, he realised he had not spoken since the men had taken him.

The man nodded and tried to say something through the gag. Benoit gently lay his hands on the man’s shoulders. The man stilled, allowing Benoit to pull off the blindfold.

He was stunned when he recognised the man. The man blinked a few times as his eyes became used to the dim light. He managed to focus on Benoit as he reached out to undo the gag. 

The man had bruises across his face and neck, it was clear he had sustained a prolonged attack, he had not simply been beaten to the ground, he had probably been kicked as well. Despite that, the man was looking at him with a critical eye. Benoit remembered Louis-Charles telling him that was what the man did, worried about others before himself. 

Benoit could not help smiling. He had worked out what Louis-Charles had done. He had enlisted the help of a former lover to help his current lover. 

‘This has not gone entirely to plan,’ said Aramis as the gag fell away, a wry smile playing across his lips as he spoke.


	2. Chapter 2

_Two days ago… ___

__Louis-Charles stretched. He kept his eyes closed as he eased himself onto his back, being careful not to disturb his sleeping partner. There was nothing for him to do, no commitments, no engagements. Nothing._ _

__And Louis-Charles had every intention of making the most of the day. He wanted to look at his roses. They were starting to bloom. He wondered if his lover would paint some of them. He would like to capture them at their best and Benoit had an eye for beauty. That was how he would spend his day, a little pruning, and watching his lover at work with his easel and paints._ _

__No commitments._ _

__The previous day had been busy. They had journeyed around the estate, visiting all the smallholdings. The families were all pleased to see him, pleased that the rent had not changed from the previous year. Louis-Charles was comfortable, he did not need to make money from the tenants. All he asked of them was a little food, only as much as they could spare. Between all the families the little that they each could spare was enough to see Benoit, the staff and himself well fed throughout the year. The cook seemed to be able to make them meals from nothing._ _

__He thought about the poor family that had struggled during the previous winter. They were still getting themselves back as they were before their crops were flooded during a particularly violent storm in the autumn. The man of the house had almost been in tears as Louis-Charles reminded him that they only needed to pay what they could. If they could not spare any crops, then he did not want anything. Benoit had offered to visit and help with the rebuilding of the damaged barn. Louis-Charles had laughed and told the tenant that Benoit would be a hindrance, not a help. The light-hearted conversation had done much to allay the man’s fears._ _

__Benoit twitched slightly, Louis-Charles opened his eyes and watched his lover’s face as the man dreamt about something. Something pleasant Louis-Charles guessed from the expression on the man’s face. The dream was probably about the foal he hoped to buy from another of the tenants. Benoit had been quite enamoured by the pregnant mare and had talked of little else since striking a deal with the owners the previous day._ _

__The only thing, the small thing, that had the potential to become a nuisance was the neighbouring landowner, Deroches. A minor noble, the man wanted more than he was entitled to. The man wanted more than anyone was entitled to. Louis-Charles did not like to admit it, not even to Benoit, but he was intimidated by Deroches._ _

__Deroches was perhaps a little younger than him, his family had owned the land for many generations. But his was not a harmonious relationship with the land and the people who lived on it. Deroches was not a kindly landlord, he was a brute. The people who lived in the small village were all scared of him. The vicious man would evict families with no warning if they failed to pay their rent. Louis-Charles was also convinced the man beat his wife. The pretty petite young woman was always timid around her husband. On the few occasions they had met, Louis-Charles had quickly formed the opinion that there was no love between the couple, that theirs was simply a marriage of convenience. But not to Madam Deroches convenience._ _

__What made Louis-Charles wary of Deroches the most, was that he had made veiled threats towards him. The man wanted his land. He wanted to farm it, the greedy neighbour saw Louis-Charles as a meek man. Louis-Charles did not think of himself as meek, in his younger years he had been known to stand up to bullies but now that the bullies were often stronger than himself he was not as sure of himself as he had been. His eyesight was not what it had been, he was not as good a shot with a gun and knew Deroches could overpower him if he wanted to. He would not like to be alone with the man._ _

__Deroches had called on him a few times, generally bringing a couple of his brutish men with him. On his own land, Louis-Charles was surer of himself and he had his staff to back him up if needs be. The cook was more than capable of dealing with a man like Deroches and Louis-Charles was sure Simon, Luc and even Benoit would give as good as they got if it came down to anything physical._ _

__He was safe on his own land and Louis-Charles was quite happy to remain there. He did not miss the city, and he knew Benoit did not either._ _

__They had lived on the inherited estate for several years. Louis-Charles had known he needed to get his lover away from the City, the flamboyant man was not discreet enough about their relationship. More than once his lover had come under the suspicious eyes of the Red Guard. The need to keep their relationship a secret had been the impetus to make Louis-Charles move them to the estate, but the beauty of their new surroundings had made the pair remain, even when Benoit had ceased to be quite as over the top as he had been when they had first met._ _

__He did not miss the City, although he did miss one of its residents. Aramis, the young man he had saved from what could have been a brutal attack years before, had been a lover for several months. The cadet had been eager to learn from him, Louis-Charles had relished the task of shaping the young man, helping him to understand what it was like to have what most people believed to be wrong and sinful sexual inclinations. As Aramis had learned, he had become one of the most attentive lovers Louis-Charles had ever had, certainly a rival for Benoit._ _

__Aramis, now a Musketeer, had written to him in the last week to thank Louis-Charles again for the help he had rendered him and his current partner. It has been a shock when Aramis had turned up with another Musketeer and a scared boy in tow the previous month. His former lover and his partner had been the victims of a horrific attack and needed some help to move on. Louis-Charles was only too happy to help._ _

__He had also been more than happy to give the boy they had rescued from an almost certain death sentence, a job and a home. Luc had settled in well and was already a competent apprentice groom._ _

__Aramis’ current lover, another Musketeer, d’Artagnan, had also written to thank him for his intervention. D’Artagnan had told him that they had overcome their difficulties and were moving on from the attack._ _

__Louis-Charles’ current lover, Benoit, the man he hoped to grow old with, stirred next to him. Louis-Charles reached up and brushed the waking man’s dark untidy hair from his face. Benoit smiled as he opened his eyes._ _

__‘Morning,’ he said with a yawn._ _

__‘You were dreaming earlier,’ said Louis-Charles, ‘I’m guessing about that foal you’re going to buy?’_ _

__Benoit’s smile widened, he shifted himself a little closer to Louis-Charles as he slipped his arm around his waist and kissed him._ _

__‘I haven’t bought anything for myself for ages and that mare is just stunning, the foal will be striking as well.’_ _

__Louis-Charles shook his head with a chuckle, ‘you have not bought anything for yourself, my love, because I usually buy things for you.’_ _

__Benoit pouted for a few seconds before leaning in to kiss his lover again, ‘and you would not have it any other way. You like to keep me in a manner to which I have become accustomed.’_ _

__With a cheeky grin, his lover pushed himself up to sit before throwing the covers back and climbing out of the bed. Louis-Charles watched the naked man as he quickly washed and began to dress._ _

__‘Where are you off to in such a hurry? I told you I have no other commitments today. I was going to ask if you would paint some of my roses…’_ _

__Benoit looked up from buttoning his breeches, ‘I want to visit Monsieur Paul again. That mare was so close to giving birth, my foal might be waiting for me.’_ _

__‘You know you won’t actually get the foal for a while yet?’_ _

__Benoit laughed, ‘but that does not stop me from showing an interest.’_ _

__He walked around the bed and perched on the edge of it, leaning over his lover. Louis-Charles leaned up a little to meet him in a passionate kiss. Benoit teased him with his tongue and pushed his fingers through his hair. Louis-Charles was about to grab his lover and pull him down to lie on the bed when Benoit escaped his grasp with a wink._ _

__‘Later...after I’ve painted your beloved roses…’_ _

__Louis-Charles sank back on the bed, the feeling of arousal filling him, he glared at his lover as he walked from the room, throwing a sultry look at him over his shoulder as he closed the door behind him._ _

__At least he had something to look forward to later in the day, Louis-Charles thought to himself as he contemplated getting out of bed._ _

__MMMM_ _

__Benoit slowed his horse to a trot; he did not want to tire the beast. The brief gallop had been exhilarating. Feeling the rush of wind through his hair, feeling the horse’s muscles moving as he stretched out for each long stride. But a more sedate pace was just as welcome. He took a few deep breaths enjoying the smells of the open countryside. He was glad his lover's estate was not overrun with tenants. There were large spaces that were just natural, with thickets of trees and gently rolling meadows. Louis-Charles maintained a few roads through the land but otherwise left it to its own devices. Consequently, they were never short of game to hunt during the season._ _

__The horse snorted a few times as they passed one of the thickets of trees. Benoit wondered if a wolf was loitering in the dark tangle of trees, but they rarely saw any predatory animals in the vicinity. The horse continued to behave in a distressed manner as they walked along the rough path through the thicket._ _

__Benoit looked around himself, becoming a little concerned. He kicked his heels in an attempt to urge the horse on but was only rewarded with the beast whinnying and pawing at the ground as he came to a complete stop. Benoit leaned forward, stroking the horse's neck as he tried to work out what the issue was. He sat back up quickly when he heard a noise to his left._ _

__He was too slow to react to the man that had appeared. Damp leaves and dirt clung to the man’s clothes; he had been lying partially covered in the loose earth at the side of the road. Benoit tried to encourage his horse to move forward a second time. But the beast refused to move, merely stepped a few paces on the spot and snorted to show its agitation._ _

__Another man joined the first, stepping out from behind a tree. Both men wore cloaks with hoods, the second man carried a gun which was aimed squarely at Benoit._ _

__MMMM_ _

__With his sleeves rolled up and his arms covered in mud Louis-Charles was sure he would be mistaken for a gardener if anyone were to call on him. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, he guessed he had probably managed to get some of the wet earth on his face in the process. But the hard work and mess was rewarding. The roses looked stunning. The light from the sun, high in the sky, was catching the petals of the pale pinks and deep reds of the two bushes in front of him. He watched a bumblebee lazily move from one flower to the next, the soft buzz a sound that always reminded him of happy times in his youth in the rose garden his mother had kept so neat and tidy._ _

__Deciding that he had worked enough for the morning and had probably earned whatever Carlos was putting together for lunch Louis-Charles rose to his feet, stretching his back and rolling his shoulders for a few seconds. He had been knelt for some time as he carefully weeded and pruned around his best plants. After brushing the worst of the dirt from his hands and arms he started to walk back to the house. He had already told Sophie that he would eat with the servants in the kitchen and for her not to bother to ready the dining room. Benoit would find them when he returned._ _

__Louis-Charles glanced along the driveway wondering where his lover was. He guessed the foal had been born and the infatuated man had stayed with Paul to observe the creatures first steps into the world. He smiled at the thought. Benoit had needed a project for a while, something to look after. The man needed distraction and purpose. He was rarely still and without direction seemed to get himself into trouble far too easily. Although that was not such an issue now that they lived far away from prying, inhospitable eyes._ _

__Louis-Charles reached the steps down to the kitchen, he paused when he heard hurried footsteps crunching across the gravel of the driveway. Simon, the groom, was running towards him clutching what looked like a letter._ _

__‘Monsieur,’ Simon managed to say between hurried breaths. ‘Monsieur Benoit’s horse...a man, a man in a hooded cloak he just galloped into the stable area. He nearly knocked Luc down. The man was with Monsieur Benoit’s horse, he threw the reins at Luc then charged off. Luc found this tucked into the saddle.’_ _

__Simon handed Louis-Charles the bent letter, the corners slightly damp and curled. His name was written on the outside of the paper._ _

__‘No sign of Ben?’_ _

__Simon shook his head, ‘Luc is with the horse trying to calm him down, he’s been ridden hard. Very worked up.’_ _

__Worry filling his mind, Louis-Charles ripped the letter open, unfolding it. As he unfolded the paper a clump of hair fell out, tied with a tatty piece of string around the middle. Louis-Charles caught it, he stared at it, remembering pushing his fingers through it only a few hours before, but then it had been attached to the head of his lover._ _

__Simon gently took the letter from his hand, the groom seemed to sense that Louis-Charles would not be able to read the words scrawled across the letter at that moment. He read aloud. Louis-Charles had to force himself to look away from the hair in his hand and concentrate on what the letter said._ _

__‘I have grown bored of my civil attempts to get you to sell up, Monsieur Dubois, and have, therefore, decided to take more direct action.  
As you will see by my gift to you, I have your secretary. I know he is also a good friend and companion to you.   
I expect you would not like to see him harmed more seriously than the loss of some of his ridiculous hair.  
Sell your land to me and I will restore your secretary unharmed.   
This is not blackmail, monsieur, it is persuasion.   
I am having the contract of sale drawn up, once it is ready, I will visit you, you will sign over your house and lands and I will restore your man to you.   
Deroches.’_ _

__Simon looked up from the letter, ‘how is this not blackmail?’_ _

__Louis-Charles shook his head, he looked back at the hair and the tatty string holding it together. He knew Deroches wanted the land, but to go to such an extreme to get it?_ _

__A hand on his arm and another at his waist had Louis-Charles focus on his groom again. Simon was gently leading him to the bench outside the kitchen. Louis-Charles sat down, he took the letter from Simon and read it._ _

__He did not want to give up his home. He did not want to give up his land. He had been given the land and house in the will of his first lover. A man he had spent nearly ten years with and would have continued to live with if he had not been taken from him by a lingering illness. The house was his to do with as he wanted, not to be bullied off him by Deroches._ _

__But Deroches had taken Benoit. Had taken the one thing that could make him give up his land. Louis-Charles would do anything to save his lover._ _

__But he did not want to give up his land._ _

__Louis-Charles had not been aware of Simon disappearing. It was not until water shrivelled fingers took the letter from his hands that he realised Carlos was standing in front of him. The cook, his apron showing signs of food preparation stood straight and tall as he read the letter. Carlos looked every bit the soldier he really was. The escaped prisoner of war read the letter carefully a couple of times, taking long breaths as he did so. It was as if he were readying himself for battle._ _

__‘Do you think he knows?’ said Louis-Charles quietly._ _

__‘Knows what, monsieur?’ asked Simon who stood next to Carlos._ _

__‘Knows about Ben and me. Knows that he’s not my secretary?’_ _

__‘There is nothing in this letter to indicate that, senor,’ said Carlos, his accent coming out a little, something that rarely happened._ _

__The Spaniard spoke perfect French unless he was particularly worked up about something, which was not often._ _

__‘Deroches is testing the waters. He is seeing how far he can push you-’_ _

__‘He cut Ben’s hair...how far does he need to push me?’ said Louis-Charles unable to hide the worry in his voice._ _

__Carlos took a step forward; he rested his hand on Louis-Charles’ shoulder and looked him in the eyes._ _

__‘He wants you to bend to his will. You must not do this. We know he has tried to intimidate you, senor. You must not give in to him-’_ _

__‘But he has-’_ _

__‘And we will get Senor Benoit back,’ Carlos squeezed Louis-Charles’ shoulder before straightening up._ _

__Louis-Charles watched as the cook, who had in those couple of minutes become a soldier and taken charge of the situation, outlined what they were going to do._ _

__‘We must enlist the help of your friend, Senor Aramis. He will probably be able to bring others; I am sure Senor d’Artagnan will help us as well. Deroches has made threats, they will be dealt with. Simon, do you think you can find Senor Aramis?’_ _

__Simon nodded a look of confusion on his face, ‘I can try the Musketeer garrison in the city, it can’t be too difficult to find…’_ _

__Carlos nodded, ‘it has to be you that goes. Luc might be recognised as an escaped prisoner and I need to stay here in case Deroches comes sooner than we are expecting him. Senor Louis-Charles…’_ _

__Louis-Charles looked at Carlos._ _

__‘You will write to Senor Aramis…’ Carlos paused for a moment, before continuing, ‘you will tell him what has happened, Simon can fill in the details when he is there…’_ _

__Louis-Charles nodded absentmindedly as he stared at his lover's hair._ _

__‘I will write the letter, Senor, you will sign it,’ said Carlos after a few seconds, his tone commanding but sincere._ _

__Carlos moved off, talking to Simon and calling for Sophie to tell Luc to saddle a horse._ _

__Louis-Charles allowed his cook to take charge. He could not make any thoughts properly form in his head. Benoit had been taken from him and was being held by the brutish Deroche._ _

__Would he see his lover alive again?_ _


	3. Chapter 3

Simon was not used to the hustle and noise of the city. He had been forced to slow the horse to a walk as he made his way along the busy road. After asking a few people he had finally been pointed in the direction of the Musketeer garrison. Simon had been born in the countryside, not far from where he now worked, he had never been into Paris before. He visited a large town a few times with his master but that was nothing compared to the city. The different people were astonishing. There were fine carriages with fine people within. The men and women in the carriages did not look as though they wanted to remain near the other city dwellers. Some of the carriages moved quickly, forcing others to get out of the way or risk being hit. 

The poor were what shocked Simon the most. Luc had told him about the poverty and squalor, but he had thought the young man had been exaggerating. He realised as he moved around a woman lying in the middle of the street that Luc had been telling the truth. A man rushed up to the fallen woman and tried to get her to her feet, but it was obvious the woman was beyond help. Several boys were nearby watching and nudging each other. Simon wondered what their intention was. 

More women were standing in doorways, occasionally trying to get him to talk to them. Simon knew they were prostitutes. He was not interested in them. Simon saw a couple of young men who looked like they might have been selling themselves as well, much as Luc had done before he was captured. Simon felt sorry for the unfortunate souls who had found themselves forced to live under such circumstances. Louis-Charles had warned him that men with the same sexual inclinations as themselves were not welcomed and considered sinners who should be put to death. Simon had seen the haunted look on Luc’s face several times when his thoughts had returned to his life before Monsieur Aramis had rescued him. 

As he reached the gates to the Musketeer garrison he dismounted and led the horse up to the man who was standing guard. The man, a little younger than himself, but of large build towered over him.

Simon could not see a pauldron on the man’s shoulder and guessed he was a cadet, but he was still intimidating to the groom.

‘I need to speak to Monsieur Aramis, please,’ he said to the cadet. 

‘Why?’

‘I have a message from a friend of his, it’s urgent.’

‘He’s not here, you’ll have to wait,’ said the cadet, not unkindly, but it was obvious Simon was not going to be permitted entry to the garrison.

‘Simon?’ came a voice from beyond the gate. 

Both the cadet and the groom turned towards the newcomer. 

‘Not you Simon,’ said d’Artagnan with a smile towards the cadet. ‘This man is also called Simon. It’s alright, you can let him in.’

The cadet nodded and stood aside. Simon nodded his thanks as he passed.

D’Artagnan looked at Simon with a broad smile on his face, ‘what brings you here? Are you visiting the city?’

Simon glanced around the yard he had entered. He saw a few Musketeers dotted around, some were in uniform, some in their shirt sleeves. A couple were sat at a table watching d’Artagnan and him with interest. They were cleaning their weapons, parts spread across the table amongst the remains of a meal. A couple of younger men, more cadets Simon guessed, were rubbing down some horses to the side of the yard and a boy was carrying a bucket of water towards what must have been the stables.

‘I’ve a message for Monsieur Aramis, it’s urgent,’ said Simon, who was not afraid to admit he felt a little intimidated surrounded by all the soldiers.

‘He’s still on duty, he won’t be back for another half an hour at least. What’s happened? Can you tell me?’

Simon hesitated for a few moments. He knew that d’Artagnan was more than just friends with Aramis. He knew the young soldier could be trusted. Simon nodded, he was about to hand the letter to d’Artagnan when the two Musketeers who had been sitting at the table approached, obviously interested in what was going on.

D’Artagnan noticed Simon’s reluctance to speak when the Musketeers joined them. He smiled.

‘This is Athos and Porthos,’ he said indicating each of the Musketeers. ‘They’re friends to both myself and Aramis,’ d’Artagnan turned to the two men. ‘This is Simon, he’s Louis-Charles’ groom. Apparently, there’s a message for Aramis.’

Porthos looked at Simon, ‘it’s alright,’ he said, ‘you’re safe with us.’

Simon nodded slowly, he realised the soldiers were friends with d’Artagnan and he guessed they knew about the relationship he and Aramis were in. He handed the letter to d’Artagnan who looked at the scrawled words on the outside.

‘Carlos wrote it. Master Louis-Charles...he...he was too upset at the time.’

Simon watched as d’Artagnan opened the letter and read it with Athos and Porthos peering over his shoulders to read it at the same time. He knew that Carlos had outlined the basics of what had happened, probably quite succinctly. The master had added a brief note to ask for Aramis’ help at the end and signed it. Simon remembered Louis-Charles’ hand shaking as he wrote, he had still been clutching the hair that had been cut from Monsieur Benoit. 

‘I dislike men who think they can get what they want by force,’ said Athos with a scowl. 

Simon had watched the two Musketeers as they had read the letter, both had looked angry. 

D’Artagnan looked up at Simon, ‘is Louis-Charles alright?’

Simon shook his head, ‘not really, monsieur, he is really shaken. I’ve not seen him look so lost before. He’s normally so calm and quietly in charge of everything… The only time I think any of us have seen him rattled would be when Deroches has been to visit. The master tried to hide it but we could tell he was intimidated by him. Monsieur Benoit tried to make light of it...it’s the only time I’ve seen the master get annoyed with Monsieur Benoit. I think he was embarrassed that he had shown weakness.’

‘From the sounds of things this Deroches is a bully. If he thinks that kidnapping people to get what he wants is the right way to do things he needs dealin’ with,’ said Porthos. 

‘What’s going on?’ asked an older soldier. 

The short-haired man approached them from the steps that led up to a few first-floor rooms on one side of the garrison yard. 

‘Captain,’ said d’Artagnan turning to the man, ‘this is Simon, he’s the groom for a friend of Aramis.’

The Captain of the Musketeers looked at d’Artagnan, obviously expecting more of an explanation. D’Artagnan took a step closer to the Captain and spoke quietly. 

‘Louis-Charles Dubois… he was a friend of Aramis’ from several years ago… and more recently he… er… he helped us both after we were attacked…’

Simon watched the Captain as he put together the pieces of information. It was obvious that the Captain knew about Aramis and d’Artagnan as well. Simon was surprised at how many people knew the two men were in a relationship when it was such a dangerous thing to be involved in. Simon was sure the friends were very loyal to each other. He guessed the camaraderie of their lives led to close friendships. 

D’Artagnan handed his Captain the letter; the man read it carefully.

‘I think Carlos, Louis-Charles cook, has explained most of what has happened. He used to be a soldier I believe.’

D’Artagnan looked at Simon who nodded.

‘A Spanish soldier?’ asked Porthos. ‘No don’t answer that, I get the impression from what Aramis has said about his friend that there are a few people living on his estate that perhaps don’t fit in anywhere else… rather like Luc.’

Simon managed a smile, ‘I don’t think any of us would be wholly accepted by society.’

‘I know the feeling,’ muttered d’Artagnan.

The Captain had been looking at them thoughtfully for a few seconds, ‘I can spare the four of you,’ he said, ‘there are too many visitors at the Palace for me to send anyone else… and this probably requires something more discreet anyway. The King would not want one of his subjects abusing his position like this, so on his behalf, I am going to have you go and sort it out… and any friend of Aramis’, a friend that helped him and you,’ the Captain smiled at d’Artagnan, ‘to find yourselves again... Well, I will not leave that friend in need.’

‘Thank you, Captain,’ said d’Artagnan. ‘We’ll leave once we’ve updated Aramis. He should be back soon.’

The Captain nodded to Simon before turning and walking away, stopping to talk to a couple of Musketeers at the bottom of the steps. 

‘Simon are you hungry?’ asked Porthos. ‘It will take us a little while to gather what we need and update Aramis, let’s get you some food.’

‘Thank you,’ replied Simon, who was trying to keep up with all that had happened. 

MMMM

Louis-Charles looked at the plate of food, a simple repast of cold meat and cheese with some of Carlos’ best bread. But he could not face it, could not contemplate eating when he had no idea if his lover was alright.

He knew that Deroches would not kill Benoit, he would not gain anything from killing his captive. But he had obviously already been rough with him. Louis-Charles hoped Benoit did not fight back when his hair was cut. Deroches was a big man who could easily knock the slight Benoit down. Louis-Charles knew he would be no match for the man either. He doubted either Benoit or himself would match the man in a swordfight. They were not fighters. They knew how to shoot and the basics of sword fighting, but it was for show, not for battle.

He sighed, thinking how lucky he was to have servants who were able to look after him. Without Carlos’ soldier's mind, Louis-Charles was sure he would have just given in straight away. He was not sure why he had not thought to ask Aramis for help first, but at that moment he had still been reeling from the knowledge that his lover was in danger. He had not been able to think. 

Louis-Charles hoped and prayed that his former lover would be able to help. He knew Aramis would want to help, but would he be allowed to? Would his Captain allow the Musketeer to leave the city to aid an old friend who was in trouble?

If no help were to come, what would he do? He did not want to give up the house and grounds. He owed it to his first lover, the man that had taught him, rather like he had taught Aramis. He owed it to the tenants. He owed it to his staff. 

But Benoit was in danger and he would not allow his lover to come to harm for the sake of property. He was independently wealthy, if he had to start again elsewhere, he could, but it would not be on as grand a scale as they had become used to.

Louis-Charles wondered what the next few days would bring. 

MMMM

‘When did this happen?’ asked Aramis as he read the letter after being updated by d’Artagnan.

Simon had watched the surprise on Aramis’ face change to anger and worry as he was updated as to the reason for him being there. The Musketeer had cheerfully walked into the garrison a few minutes before. He had greeted Simon warmly before noting the worried look on d’Artagnan’s face. D’Artagnan had stopped Aramis from rushing off to the Captain’s room telling him they had already been given permission to help Louis-Charles and Benoit. 

As horses were being saddled and Athos and Porthos gathered weapons and other provisions Aramis had begun asking Simon questions. 

‘He went to visit one of the tenants yesterday morning. The note was delivered around noon. I was sent here late yesterday; it was too late for me to travel here in one day...sorry.’

Aramis shook his head with a sad smile, ‘I’m glad you didn’t put yourself in danger by riding through the night. And I am sure Louis-Charles will be of the same opinion.’

Simon had hated having to stop overnight on his journey to Paris. But by the time the letter had been written and he was ready to travel it was late in the afternoon. Simon had not wanted to ride into the unfamiliar city in the dark after all the horror stories he had heard from Luc. 

‘So, Benoit has been missing for at least a day?’ asked Aramis. 

Simon nodded. 

‘What sort of man is Benoit? Is he capable of looking after himself?’ asked Porthos who had brought two horses forward, handing the reins of one to Aramis. 

‘He’s a little over the top with his manner, but he was calm and serious when he needed to be,’ said Aramis before looking at Simon.

Simon nodded, ‘Monsieur Benoit is very friendly to us all, he does act as though he is…’ he paused trying to think of an appropriate word.

‘...effeminate?’ suggested Porthos who had worked out what Simon was trying to say. 

Simon nodded. The word described Benoit well, but when they had visitors who would not have approved of such behaviour, he would act more as would be expected of a man.

‘He can shoot. I’ve not seen him fighting otherwise.’

‘Probably no need for him to do any sword fighting,’ said Porthos with a smile.

Aramis had mounted up and was talking to d’Artagnan who was checking his tack. Simon had observed the pair since Aramis had returned from his guard duty. He marvelled at how they were around each other. When they had visited the master the month before they had not had to hide their relationship, but here in the middle of the city, the two men acted completely differently. Simon would not have guessed that they were in a relationship if he had not known. The other soldiers, Athos, Porthos and Treville also did not treat the two men any differently. 

‘Are we ready?’ asked Athos who was mounted.

Simon quickly mounted his own horse and nodded along with the rest of them. He followed as Athos led them out of the garrison. The journey out of the city could not have been more different for Simon. He did not have to wait for people to move out of the way for him and they were able to trot most of the time. The uniformed soldiers rode with purpose, the people made way for them. Simon rode with Aramis at the back of the group, Athos and d’Artagnan led with Porthos either with them or just behind when the streets narrowed. 

‘How was Louis?’ asked Aramis as they neared the edge of the city.

‘Shaken and worried. He really doesn’t want to give up his lands, but he will if he has to. Monsieur Benoit means everything to him. When he was ill last year, the master stayed up for two days straight tending to him. Carlos ended up being quite firm with him and making him rest. I’m not sure what the master would do without Monsieur Benoit.’

Aramis was looking into the distance thoughtfully, ‘I remember when I told him I was going to be away for several months, effectively ending our brief time together,’ he said. ‘Louis was very upset then. I’d always known our relationship would not last for very long. I’m not sure I ever wanted a relationship with him, it just sort of happened.’

Aramis paused and glanced at Simon.

‘Sorry, I shouldn’t really be saying things like that to you.’

Simon smiled, ‘it’s alright monsieur I won’t repeat anything, I know you are worried about the master and Monsieur Benoit. We all are.’

‘Tell me about this Deroches. What sort of man is he?’

Simon acknowledged the change of subject and began to describe the neighbour. He told Aramis everything he knew about the man and his estate. Simon knew that not all the information would be useful, but he wanted to be sure he had told the Musketeer as much as he could. 

‘Deroches is a little older than you monsieur, he is a big broad man. He is intimidating. I think the only one of us that could stand up to him would be Carlos and he cannot do that without giving himself away,’ said Simon, ‘I’ve heard that he is cruel to his tenants and staff. His wife, she is scared of him...she’s pregnant with their first child.’

Aramis nodded, ‘we’ll sort this out,’ he said. ‘How was Louis before you left?’

Simon shook his head, ‘not good. He didn’t know what to do when he got the note from Deroches. Carlos just took charge. Sophie was keeping an eye on him when I left.’

Simon could tell Aramis was concerned and preoccupied, he had already asked after Louis-Charles several times.

Aramis asked a few more questions, Simon answered as well as he could. But he knew he could not answer all the questions, he was not party to all that had gone on between his master and Deroches. His master was very inclusive of his staff, but they were his servants and were not included in the daily running of the house, they had their own areas of work. Simon did not have much idea how the house worked in the same way that Sophie and Carlos were not knowledgeable about the stables and the horses. Aramis seemed content with the answers he got. They all knew any proper plan of action could not be made until the soldiers had assessed the situation themselves. 

As they left the city behind Simon relaxed. He had quickly decided that he did not like the city, he had found it smothering. The freedom to allow his horse to gallop through the countryside would be something he would miss if he lived there. 

The soldiers relaxed a little in their attitude as well. They fell out of formation and trotted side by side, talking and strategizing. Porthos was asking him lots of questions about the land, the house that Deroches lived in and how many men he had. Athos asked after Luc.

Simon knew that Luc had been very wary of Monsieur Athos after his liberation from the Chatelet, but they had grown to respect each other by the time they had parted. 

‘We should get there in the early afternoon,’ said Athos, ‘I suggest after we have talked to Louis-Charles, that we take a look at Deroches land and house. Simon, will you act as our guide?’

Simon nodded, ‘I’d be happy to monsieur, we don’t venture that way very often, but I do know the area well enough.’

As they neared his home, Simon wondered what the four soldiers would do to help his master and Benoit. Now that they had reinforcements, Simon was sure they would be able to deal with Deroches and his thuggish men.


	4. Chapter 4

Luc was waiting for the return of Simon and the Musketeers. He knew that Aramis would agree to help. Luc also knew that d’Artagnan would not be far behind and he doubted that Athos and Porthos would be left out either. The four men were a team, Luc knew they would want to help. Aramis would want to help Monsieur Louis-Charles and Benoit and the others would want to help Aramis. Luc liked to see people helping each other. He had spent so much of his life being offered no help or simply being used for others gain that any camaraderie between friends was a good thing to him. 

He had watched the dust thrown up by the horses for a few minutes before he was sure it was them. After calling out to Sophie to inform Monsieur Louis-Charles that Simon had returned with the Musketeers, Luc walked out a little to meet them. He could not help smiling when he saw Aramis. The man who had saved his life managed to smile in return, but it was obvious that they were not to enjoy a happy reunion. Aramis quickly dismounted and allowed Luc to hug him. Aramis hugged him back before pushing him to arm's length and looking him over. 

‘I would have liked to have visited under better circumstances,’ said Aramis, ‘once this is sorted you and I will talk, you can tell me about your new life.’

Luc nodded. He turned his attention to the other soldiers. D’Artagnan pulled him in for a quick hug, as did Porthos. Athos watched, standing a few feet away. Luc walked up to him to shake the more reserved man’s hand, but Athos stepped in for a hug, slapping him on the back.

‘You have done well, young man,’ he said. ‘And you will be valuable again, I am sure.’

Luc smiled at Athos, the man who had initially been unsure about taking him from the prison. The respect they had for one another was highly prised by Luc. 

Simon and d’Artagnan took the horses to the stables. Luc was grateful, he wanted to spend as much time with Aramis as he could, even if the circumstances were horrible. 

‘Monsieur Louis-Charles is waiting. He’s very worried. We’re very worried about him,’ said Luc as he led the men into the house. 

‘How is he?’ asked Aramis as he entered the hallway.

‘Very quiet. He’s not eaten. Carlos has been telling him what to do, he wanted to go over to Deroches this morning, but Carlos told him not to.’

‘Good,’ said Athos, ‘we do not want Louis-Charles making this situation worse.’

Luc indicated the blue room, Aramis pushed the door open, not bothering to knock, this was not the time for etiquette or decorum. Luc watched as the concern on Aramis’ face deepened as he entered the room. The Musketeer crossed the room to where Louis-Charles was sat in one of the cushioned chairs by the hearth. Carlos had pulled a hard-backed chair over from the card table and sat next to his master. As the new arrivals entered the room Carlos rose and looked them over. Carlos indicated for Aramis to take his chair, Aramis nodded his thanks and sat by Louis-Charles who looked relieved to have Aramis by him.

‘We’re here,’ said Aramis simply, ‘we are going to do what we can.’

‘Thank you,’ said Louis-Charles who still looked dazed and tired. 

‘This is Athos and Porthos,’ said Aramis indicating his friends, ‘d’Artagnan is helping Simon with the horses.’

Louis-Charles nodded to each man, but his expression was unfocused. Carlos had taken a position behind his master's chair and continued to observe the newcomers. 

‘Deroches has had Senor Benoit for some hours now. He has set his demands. He intends to arrive with a contract of sale tomorrow. So far he does not appear to have harmed Monsieur Benoit-’

‘He cut a chunk of his hair off,’ said Louis-Charles quietly, ‘the man is evil…’

Aramis reached out and took Louis-Charles’ hand.

‘What if he gives himself away? Then Deroches will have something to blackmail me with. We’ll have to leave…’

‘Is Benoit likely to do that?’ asked Porthos.

Carlos shook his head, ‘Senor Benoit is flamboyant, it is his nature. The locals have all seen him acting with an over the top manner. I do not think he will give himself away.’

D’Artagnan, who had slipped into the room a few moments before nodded his agreement.

‘I agree with Carlos, and even if Deroches suspected, he can’t have any evidence, or he probably would have used it already.’

Louis-Charles sighed, ‘I should just sell up. Start again somewhere else. I don’t want to. I love this house...we love this house...and it was given to me…’

‘You will not be giving up, monsieur,’ said Porthos, ‘this Deroches has kidnapped a citizen of France and is threatening another. We are going to see to it that he is brought to justice.’

‘But at what cost?’ asked Louis-Charles. 

‘We will get him back for you,’ said Aramis, who was rubbing his thumb across Louis-Charles’ hand, offering the man what comfort he could.

Luc watched as the other men in the room reacted to Aramis’ words, Athos and Porthos exchanged glances, they did not look as though they agreed with what Aramis had said. D’Artagnan shook his head slightly with a sigh. Luc wondered what had upset the other soldiers. Carlos did not look as though he approved of Aramis words either. 

Sophie, who had been loitering by the door stepped forward a few paces. Luc had been very impressed with the friendly young woman since Benoit had been taken. She had spent most of her time watching over Louis-Charles, trying to get him to eat and rest, although she had not succeeded very well, the man was too distraught. 

‘Now that your friends are here, perhaps you should rest, monsieur,’ she said. ‘Carlos can deal with them. You need to sleep monsieur. You need to be rested for when Monsieur Benoit is brought back to you.’

Louis-Charles looked at Aramis who nodded, ‘let us deal with it.’

Carlos also nodded his approval, ‘you should take a sleeping draught.’

Louis-Charles looked down for a few seconds before taking a deep breath and pushing himself up to stand. 

‘You are right. I’m no use to you anyway. I’m not a fighter. I used to be good with a gun, but hunting is different from fighting,’ said Louis-Charles with a look around the room. ‘Please know I am grateful for what you are doing for Ben and myself.’

Louis-Charles looked at Aramis for a few seconds, he smiled briefly before following Sophie from the room.

As the door clicked shut, Athos turned to Aramis and practically hissed at him, ‘why did you tell him we would get Benoit back? What if he is already dead? You should not have given him false hope.’

Aramis looked at the floor for a few seconds before looking back at his fellow soldiers, Luc could see the worry in his saviour’s eyes. 

‘I know, I just… I couldn’t see him like that. He’s a vibrant man… seeing him so broken… it’s… wrong.’

D’Artagnan moved to stand by Aramis, resting his hand on his lover's arm, Luc knew it was not something the younger man would have done if they were not all aware of the relationship between them both. 

‘We know this is difficult for you. Try to remain focused.’

Aramis nodded, ‘sorry,’ he said. 

There was a momentary pause as the men looked at each other. Aramis’ slight indiscretion was forgotten about. It was Porthos who broke the silence. 

‘We need a plan. I propose we infiltrate Deroches’ household. Does he hire men? It will be the quickest way to get a good idea of the lie of the land.’

Carlos nodded; Luc could tell the cook very much approved of the soldiers.

‘He hires men frequently. There is quite a turnover of his thugs.’

Carlos paused, he looked at each of the soldiers, stopping at d’Artagnan.

‘You will be the one to infiltrate,’ he said, ‘Deroches takes young men, that he knows he can dismiss without too much of an argument and that he will not have to pay very well.’

D’Artagnan nodded before glancing at Aramis. Luc saw a slight look of disapproval cross Aramis’ face for a few seconds, he guessed Aramis did not like the idea of his lover putting himself in harm’s way. 

‘I’ll be careful,’ the younger man said with a hint of dark humour in his voice. 

‘I know you will,’ replied Aramis with a grim smile.

Luc wondered what had happened in the past to cause the two men to need to say the words out loud. It seemed to him that being careful would be a thing they would do anyway. Luc knew there was a lot about the two soldiers he did not know. But they were there, and they were going to help his new master. Luc knew they would succeed. 

MMMM

Carlos had been observing the men as they talked. He already knew that Aramis and d’Artagnan were capable men. When they had stayed before they had spoken to him about the battles and skirmishes, they had been in. The two new men, Athos, clearly a diplomatic man, a reluctant unofficial leader of the quartet and Porthos, a tactician and wily man of much courage, Carlos would have gladly fought side by side with any or all of them. He suspected he might get his chance during the mission they were embarking on. Carlos saw the rescue of Benoit and the bringing to justice of the unscrupulous Deroches as a mission. He was a soldier and he knew what he had to do. 

He had suggested they visit Deroches’ land and observe the house. He knew that Porthos would come up with plans of attack once he had seen the house. They needed to be prepared. D’Artagnan had remained behind, Carlos did not want to ruin their chances of getting a man on the inside by having him seen with them. The others had removed their pauldrons and any other items that marked them out as soldiers. They did not want to be seen but equally did not want to risk Deroches’ men seeing them and informing their master that soldiers were in the area. 

They took a circuitous route to the man’s house, a large chateau a couple of miles into his land. Carlos knew the land well; he did not let his master know but he had been known to collect herbs for the kitchen from the area. His own herb garden was well stocked but the plants on Deroches’ land were very plentiful and ignored by the man’s own kitchen staff. 

‘We can observe the chateau from here,’ he said as they all ducked down behind a natural rise in the rolling land around Deroches’ impressive house. 

The chateau consisted of three floors, the lower two were of equal size, the third slightly smaller, centred across the top with sloping ends giving a symmetrical pleasing look to the building. Ivy had crept up one side of the building detracting from its simplistic beauty. Carlos knew the ivy was ripped from the walls every couple of years, but the gardeners had not been able to completely do away with it. 

A large sweeping driveway led up to impressive double doors at the top of five wide steps. They could make out one side of the house from their position, a smaller door could be seen. 

‘That is the servant's entrance,’ said Carlos. ‘There are several windowed doors across the back of the house. Any attempt to attack from there would be seen. There is a paved area there to the side, I have seen Deroches talking to new recruits there, putting them through their paces. D’Artagnan will have to prove himself to gain employment.’

‘He won’t have a problem,’ said Aramis. ‘We’ve infiltrated places before.’

Carlos nodded, ‘Porthos,’ he said, glancing at the Musketeer to his left, ‘if I might suggest, the rest of us enter the house quietly via the servant's door?’

Porthos nodded, ‘yes, but I think we should split up. Is the other side guarded? Any unobserved windows?’

Carlos smiled his approval, ‘you would have made a fine spy, monsieur. Yes, I would suggest the window to the small sitting room, it is the first window towards the front.’

‘You seem to know the house well,’ remarked Aramis.

Carlos could not help a smile, ‘I may have been here to reconnoitre a couple of times,’ he replied. ‘I suspected when Deroches started his intimidation of my master that something like this would be needed one day.’

‘You are the finest cook I have yet to encounter,’ said Athos quietly. 

‘What about the servants?’ asked Porthos. ‘Are they loyal?’

Carlos shook his head, ‘no, Senor, they will not cause us any problems.'

‘The wife might be a problem,’ said Aramis, who had been watching the house keenly. ‘She’s pregnant, even if Deroches is not the most attentive of husbands she may have divided loyalties.’

‘We can cross that bridge when we come to it,’ said Porthos.

The others nodded. Carlos knew the men would be able to adapt their plans as they went along. Being able to change tactics at a moment’s notice was something they were all used to doing. Carlos felt every bit the soldier again. 

‘Senores, if I may?’ he asked.

Athos nodded, a look of curiosity on his face.

‘I think you will need help. With d’Artagnan infiltrating the house on his own, you will be only three men. Myself, Simon and Luc will help you. Doubling your numbers, but still a small enough group to enter undetected.’

Aramis shook his head, ‘I’m sure you’re more than capable Carlos, but Simon and Luc-’

‘Are also capable men, Senor. You may have left a boy here a few weeks ago, but he has matured very quickly. I have been teaching them to shoot. They are both very good. Luc particularly has a good eye.’

Carlos smiled at a memory that had come to him, he looked at Aramis, resting his hand on the Musketeers arm.

‘Luc had a tough upbringing; you saw him at a low. You rescued a frightened boy who thought he was going to die. A couple of weeks ago one of Deroches men was snooping around the stables. He and Luc got into a fight. Luc was left a little bruised, but the other man was in a far worse state.’

Aramis raised his eyebrows in surprise. Carlos was pleased to see how proud the Musketeer was of the boy that was quickly becoming a man.

Porthos looked across, ‘I think we’ve observed enough. Let’s get back, we need to talk our plan through with all the participants present. Then we need to get d’Artagnan on the inside.’

MMMM

As the shadows lengthened and the evening set in, they walked silently towards the house. Simon led them towards the main entrance but kept to the trees at the edge of the road. D’Artagnan walked along the road, in full sight. He did not look around himself, he walked purposefully. Aramis was walking a few feet behind Simon.

The groom had seen the two soldiers talking quietly before they set off. He had not been able to hear what was said but he could guess. Aramis was asking d’Artagnan to be careful, d’Artagnan was reassuring his lover that he would be. The two men had embraced, Aramis had kissed d’Artagnan. The two men had held each other for a few seconds before stepping apart, the professional manner returning. Simon knew that they did not need to hide their relationship in the company they were with, but also did not want to flaunt it. Both men needed to stay focused and would not want their friends to worry that either was distracted by the other. Simon had moved back a few yards; he did not want them to know he had observed what was supposed to be a private moment. 

Now Aramis was about to see his lover try to infiltrate himself into a household that they knew was dangerous. Deroches was a bad man. Simon had seen the consequences of the man’s temper a few times. On the very few occasions, he had visited the village on the man’s land he had seen men with scars that could not have been caused by farming. And he had heard of the man taking some of the young women and abusing them in ways that were too horrific to think about. 

D’Artagnan quickened his pace as the ornate gates leading to the house came into view. They stood open, a sign that Deroches was not in fear of anyone. D’Artagnan walked through and made his way along the driveway towards the house. 

Simon glanced back at Aramis who had paused to watch his lover go, the Musketeer was not bothering to hide the worry. Simon could understand, even if they were not lovers, he knew that Aramis would have been worried about the younger man. Aramis realised he was being watched. 

‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘let’s get to where we can watch Deroches’ tests.’

Simon nodded and led them further into the trees, skirting the house and getting as close to the paved area near the servant’s quarters as they could without being seen. They were several yards away, close enough to clearly see what was going on but too far to really hear anything. The wooded area reached quite close to the house on that side of the estate, there were too many large trees to cut down enough to open the area up. Deroches had simply left them. He was so certain that no one would dare come near his house that he did not need to worry about sightlines. Of course, thought Simon, the man was correct, under normal circumstances no one would dare get as close as he was with Aramis. 

He glanced down at the gun that was tucked into his belt. He had reluctantly agreed to be armed on their observational mission. Aramis and he were only there to watch, to ensure that d’Artagnan was accepted into Deroches ranks, they were not expecting any trouble. But Aramis had insisted that he wanted Simon to have some protection, they were not expecting him to fight, but even one fired shot at attackers would be better than simply running away. 

Aramis was fidgeting next to him. They had found a spot by a tree with a couple of low branches to hide behind. A good view, or so Simon thought. There were still a few trees between them and open space, but they were as close as Simon felt comfortable going. But it was not close enough for Aramis who indicated for him to stay where he was and slowly crept further forward, until he was standing behind the closest tree, its gnarled trunk hiding him well. Aramis would be able to hear as well as see what happened. 

They did not have to wait long for d’Artagnan to be shown to the paved area. One of Deroches’ more long-serving men walked with him from the front of the house. They were talking. The man was asking d’Artagnan questions. As they reached the paved area Deroches appeared from the back of the house. He was casually dressed with no doublet, only a long gilet, he was carrying a glass of wine. One of the servants was following him holding a tray with a bottle on it, the young servant stood back but watched for any indication that his master needed his wine glass refilled. 

A large brown dog had followed Deroches from the back of the house, it sniffed around for a few seconds before flopping down on the no doubt warm stone slabs that made up the area by the servant's entrance. 

D’Artagnan gave a respectful bow to Deroches. Simon could see that they were talking, he could not work out what about, but Deroches seemed to approve, he pointed at a second man, dressed in the same manner as the senior man. Simon recognised him as the man that had tried to beat Luc up a couple of weeks before. The man looked a little wary of Deroches, Simon wondered if the younger man had been disciplined by Deroches for getting caught looking around Louis-Charles' estate.

Deroches pointed at D’Artagnan and the young man before stepping back a few paces. Simon guessed that D’Artagnan was going to be tested by fighting with the young man. Both men pulled their swords and saluted one another. Simon watched the fight with interest. He had seen Messieurs Louis-Charles and Benoit sparring on occasion, but that was always very gentle compared to what he was watching now. D’Artagnan was clearly very skilled with a sword, he could have won the fight with the younger man in a few strokes. The Musketeer was deliberately holding back, but at the same time making it obvious that was what he was doing. The landowner was nodded with approval and the occasional glance at the man that had walked d’Artagnan around to the paved area. The older man also looked impressed. When d’Artagnan disarmed the younger man, he stepped back and turned to Deroches. The fight had been easy for d’Artagnan, but the other man had been left panting and shocked. Deroches looked at him, shook his head and pointed towards the open gates of the estate. The young man had been dismissed from Deroches service. The man looked down and slowly walked away, Simon guessed the man knew better than to argue. 

Deroches stepped towards d’Artagnan, he was about to shake the Musketeer’s hand but was distracted by a couple of birds darting out of the nearest tree, startled by something. The brown dog jumped to its feet, instantly alert. Simon did not need to be in hearing distance to know the dog was growling. Its teeth were bared and it had its head down slightly as it slowly moved towards the tree where Aramis was hiding. As the dog broke into a run, Aramis ran as well. Simon could tell the Musketeer had no choice, the dog knew he was there and had probably been trained to chase people it did not know. Simon kept perfectly still, frozen by fear. Aramis managed to lead the dog away from his hiding place, Simon knew it would have been a conscious decision, one for which he was grateful. 

Inevitably the dog caught up with the fleeing soldier. Deroches’ man was not far behind, pulling a stout stick from his belt as he went. The man threw the stick at Aramis, catching him on the ankles causing him to fall forward, sprawled across the ground. Instinctively, Aramis curled up, trying to stop the dog from biting him, but the well-trained dog simply stopped by the fallen man, barking loudly. Simon could hear the barks, each one made him flinch. 

More men had appeared from the house, rushing forward. The lead man called the dog back as the rest of Deroches’ thugs reached Aramis who tried to fight back but could not. There were just too many of them. They did not take long to subdue the soldier, holding him firmly as they beat him. 

Simon looked back at d’Artagnan and Deroches. Deroches was glaring at d’Artagnan before glancing in the direction of the men who were busy restraining Aramis. Deroches said something to d’Artagnan who looked at him. Deroches went to pull his gun from his belt, but the young soldier was quicker, he twisted his sword in his hand and punched Deroches with the pommel. The landowner crashed to the ground with a cry. D’Artagnan ran. The servant rushed up to his master and a couple of the guards moved back, but d’Artagnan was already lost in the trees. 

Simon knew that there was nothing d’Artagnan could do for Aramis. Deroches must have seen something in d’Artagnan’s reaction to Aramis being attacked that had given him away. Simon knew d’Artagnan would have tried not to react, but sometimes it could not be helped. Simon also knew it must have been very difficult for d’Artagnan to run away, leaving his lover behind to an unknown fate, but by getting out safely d'Artagnan stood a better chance, with his friends, to getting Aramis back unharmed. D’Artagnan could have tried to kill Deroches there and then, but the guards were organised, they would have gone to their master's aid. D’Artagnan really did not have a choice.

As Simon retreated, hoping to catch up with d’Artagnan, he wondered if the situation was now better or worse? They had a man on the inside, but not in quite the manner they had planned.


	5. Chapter 5

They had made d’Artagnan and Simon sit down when they returned from the failed attempt to infiltrate the Deroches household. Both men had run hard to get back to Louis-Charles’ house. After briefly outlining what had happened, Porthos had guided both men into the house and pushed them to sit on the couch in the blue room. Luc had found Sophie and asked her to get some water for the exhausted men before returning to the room.

Simon looked pale, he was still breathing hard and blinking frequently. D'Artagnan sat forward in the chair, he looked coiled, ready to spring into action. Porthos had his hand on the soldier's shoulder, keeping him where he was. Luc guessed they all knew each other well enough to know what was best for them. And d’Artagnan needed to get his breath back and to calm himself down before they did anything else. The worry was obvious to them all. Luc was glad Louis-Charles was still asleep. Sophie had told him the worried man had taken a while to drift off even after he had taken the sleeping draught. 

‘This is unfortunate,’ said Athos, his voice calm, calculated, ‘but we will deal with it.’

D’Artagnan looked up, ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t even realise I had reacted. When the dog chased after him and they grabbed him-’

‘I think it would have been difficult for any of us not to react to that,’ said Athos.

D’Artagnan did not look particularly placated. 

‘I don’t think this changes anything,’ said Porthos. ‘They might be more alert, but we should still try to get in and get them both out. If he’s got nothing to bargain with it will be easier to deal with Deroches.’

Luc agreed, he noticed Carlos nodding as well. The Spaniard seemed to have taken a liking to Porthos. The former soldier would probably have liked to have Porthos as a comrade in battle. 

The door was pushed open, Louis-Charles appeared, he looked shocked. 

‘Sophie told me he’s got Aramis as well now. That wasn’t the plan.’

Athos stepped up to the concerned man, resting his hands on Louis-Charles’ arms, ‘Aramis is a soldier, this is not the first time he has been captured by the enemy… and it will not be the last.’

Luc was amused, Athos had done exactly the same thing that Aramis had done earlier in the day, telling Louis-Charles that all would be well. When in reality it was far from well. Luc noticed d’Artagnan look at Porthos, the worry reflected in their expressions. Carlos, who seemed to have read the situation stepped forward. 

‘The plan will go ahead, Senor. We will have to be even more careful as we enter Deroches’ property, but we are soldiers and we will prevail.’

Luc plucked up the courage to speak, ‘I want to help. Aramis saved me; I would like to repay the favour. And Benoit is nothing but kind to me. I will do exactly as you ask of me, but please, let me come with you.’

Athos nodded, ‘Carlos has told us that you are more than capable, you too Simon. We could use the extra hands and eyes. I know you will be a help, not a hindrance.’

Louis-Charles looked at each of them, ‘thank you,’ he said. ‘I would not have even known where to start without your help. Do you think they are together?’

Porthos nodded, ‘with luck. And I am sure they will look out for each other.’

MMMM

Benoit helped Aramis up to his knees, steadying the soldier when he swayed slightly. Aramis was still breathing quickly, with his arms tied behind him he was forced to lean forward slightly which was causing him to struggle to take a good breath. Benoit eased the rope loose, helping Aramis to slip his hands through the loops. 

‘Are you hurt? Louis is very worried,’ said Aramis.

The Musketeer reached up and started to run his hands over Benoit’s arms and looked at him carefully.

‘I think you’re the one who’s injured, Aramis,’ replied Benoit, grabbing hold of Aramis when he visibly swayed again.

‘Yes,’ nodded Aramis distractedly, ‘I think I was knocked out for a bit, but it’s not too bad.’

Benoit watched as Aramis looked around the room. The man was clearly not going to pay any attention to his own injuries. As Aramis pushed himself up to stand, Benoit was forced to scramble up after him, grabbing him around the waist before he could crumple back to the floor. 

‘Sit down for a minute,’ Benoit said firmly.

Aramis looked at him with unfocused eyes, ‘we’ve got to get you back to Louis.’

‘Let’s do that in a minute, alright,’ replied Benoit as he guided Aramis to the floor, leaning him against the wall. ‘Sit there and tell me what is going on.’

Benoit could tell that Aramis needed a few minutes to calm down. He recalled Louis-Charles telling him once about Aramis, then still a cadet, getting into a fight when the pair were walking through Paris one night. Aramis had seen off a potential robber but the fight and a knock to the head had left him worked up and a little confused. Benoit guessed the man that the cadet had become was going through the same thing as he sat in front of him staring off into the distance. Louis-Charles had told him that it was akin to the flush of feelings they got after enjoying a sexual encounter, although without the soft bed to fall back on or the lover's arms to be enveloped by. Benoit could not imagine how soldiers coped with the aftermath of battle.

Aramis took a few minutes to fully calm his breathing and manage to focus on Benoit who knelt in front of him, one hand resting on Aramis’ leg. 

‘Louis sent Simon to me. My Captain knew the King would approve of us being sent to help a landowner who was being threatened. He sent four of us to deal with the situation…’

Aramis paused for a few seconds before continuing. 

‘D’Artagnan was supposed to try and get work from Deroches but when he was being tested, I was spotted watching. There was a dog, I ran. Just before they knocked me out, I saw d’Artagnan getting away. He got out, but I did not. So here I am... rescuing you.’

‘How badly are you hurt?’

Aramis shook his head, ‘nothing worse than I’ve had before, bruised and battered, knock to the head. I’m a soldier, it happens.’

Aramis did not seem worried about his own welfare, treating the beating he had obviously received as an everyday occurrence. 

‘And you?’ asked Aramis. ‘Have they hurt you? Other than hacking off your hair.’

Benoit unconsciously stroked at the side of his head where his hair had been cut off, he hated to imagine how ridiculous he looked. If he got out of his predicament, he would have to have it cut short, a prospect he was not looking forward to. 

‘They were rough with me. I was terrified. It wasn’t really until they did that,’ he pointed at his hair, ‘that I realised who it was that had taken me. I thought for a moment, it might have been because of what I am… what we are.’

He finished speaking in a whisper, worried one of the hooded men might be listening at the door. Aramis shook his head.

‘Deroches is trying to use you against Louis. But as far as he knows you are nothing more than a good friend, his secretary.’

Benoit felt relieved, he was sure that Deroches did not know about his relationship with Louis-Charles but the chance that he had been indiscreet at some moment always worried him.

Aramis looked a lot more focused after being sat for a few minutes. Benoit subtly looked him over. He was obviously bruised and had been sitting with one arm wrapped around his chest, probably without realising it. Aramis noticed he was being looked at, he smiled. 

‘Thank you,’ he said, ‘for making me sit down, I probably would have just keeled over otherwise. But I do feel better now. Although I doubt I’m going to be able to get us out of here on my own. We’re going to need to wait for help. The others will be working on something. I promised Louis I’d get you back.’

‘Why do you get away with calling him Louis?’ asked Benoit. ‘He stopped me doing it very early on.’

Aramis smiled, ‘I don’t know, it’s just what I called him when we were together. It never occurred to me that he didn’t like it.’

Benoit moved to sit beside Aramis, back to staring at the bricks, but now he was not alone, he could feel hope again, something that had been slipping away the longer he had sat in the cellar.

Once Aramis had sufficiently calmed his breathing and looked a little more focused, he noticed Benoit looking at him.

‘Am I allowed to have a look at the door now?’ he asked.

Benoit nodded with a smile, ‘I knew you would not be able to stay still. Louis-Charles told me that you were always moving when you were with him.’

Benoit enjoyed seeing the memories sparked in the Musketeers eyes. He pushed himself up to stand before helping Aramis up. He could not help but notice the wince of pain from Aramis as he straightened up. Aramis tried not to draw attention to the pain he was in as he wandered around the small room, they were locked in. He paused at the door, looking at the smaller door at the base.

‘They’ve been putting food through it… I say food. Its just stale bread dipped in water… unpalatable really.’

‘But you’ve eaten though,’ said Aramis without looking around.

Benoit smiled, ‘yes. I thought about the stories you and d’Artagnan told us when you visited before. I thought that if I was going to be here for a long time I should try to eat and keep my strength.’

Aramis nodded as he continued to look at the door. Benoit wondered if he was contemplating getting down to his hands and knees to investigate the bottom of the door in more detail. He guessed Aramis did not want to, knowing it would mean making his injuries obvious. 

‘I can tell you’re hurt more than you are saying…’

Aramis finally turned to him and grinned, ‘is there anything Louis hasn’t told you about me?’

Benoit shook his head, ‘you know he loves you… still loves you. I know he wouldn’t just leave me for you, but he would do anything for you.’

Benoit noticed Aramis reddened a little and looked away.

‘I’d do anything for him as well. He taught me a lot. He saved me from being attacked when I was seventeen. He was honestly the most amazing man I knew. Certainly, a rival for d’Artagnan.’

‘We’re lucky aren’t we,’ remarked Benoit as he held out his arm to help Aramis settle back on the floor next to him.

Aramis nodded. 

‘You know he would give up his lands to save you… and me now,’ said Aramis after another few seconds of silence. ‘He doesn’t want to, but he would.’

‘I don’t want him to do that,’ replied Benoit.

‘And we… or rather my friends, will see to it that he doesn’t have to.’

‘He must be going out of his mind now that we’re both here,’ said Benoit.

Aramis sighed, wrapping his arm around himself again. Benoit watched as the soldier leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. He was surprised at how relaxed the man was, considering he was covered in bruises, had injuries to his chest and was being held captive by a ruthless landowner who was threatening his former lover.

Benoit decided he should try to emulate Aramis, he certainly felt calmer since his arrival, even if he was another captive. Knowing more Musketeers were out there, planning on rescuing them both gave Benoit a reason to keep his thoughts positive. 

MMMM

He was not sure how long it was before Deroches came, but when he did come, he did not come alone. They heard the men walking up to the door. Aramis was alert in a second, Benoit was sure he had fallen asleep but there was no sign of confusion when he sat up straight. Benoit could tell Aramis wanted to be on his feet, so he quickly helped the Musketeer up. They stood, side by side, opposite the door. 

‘Remember you do not know me,’ said Aramis quietly. ‘They asked me before they brought me in here what I was doing, I just told them that I was in the area, lost. They don’t believe me, but we should at least stick to the story that we do not know each other. If they hurt me do not overreact.’

Benoit nodded, he had not thought to ask what had happened to Aramis between the time he had been captured and put in the small room. He wondered how long Aramis had spent being interrogated. The thought that Deroches might hurt Aramis further was not something Benoit wanted to contemplate; the man had already been badly beaten once.

As the door was unlocked and pulled open Benoit tried to affect a defiant expression, he doubted he had pulled it off very well. Deroches smirked at him, the tall, broad man stepped into the room, he was forced to duck his head under the door frame, which merely emphasised his size.

‘Are you prepared to tell me who you are yet?’ asked Deroches, his eyes narrowed at Aramis who did not respond. 

Deroches walked up to Aramis who simply stared at the man. Benoit was in awe of the Musketeers' cool demeanour. It was not until Deroches pushed Aramis hard into the wall with one arm firmly across his neck that Aramis reacted. The soldier kicked out at Deroches, who stumbled back a couple of paces. The anger that flashed across the landowners' face scared Benoit. Deroches moved forward, fisting his hand as he did so, the strike to Aramis caused the already injured man to fall heavily to the floor.

‘I will deal with you… my dog might like to have some proper fun with you… perhaps I will keep you for a few days and not feed the dog in that time?’

Aramis looked up at Deroches but did not reply. Benoit was impressed, Aramis managed to push himself up to sit, he was trying to stand but two of Deroches men moved up to him and forced him to remain on the floor. Benoit wondered why.

Deroches turned to face him, ‘you seem to have become a little braver since our mystery man was caught in the grounds. I know he has something to do with Dubois, but I do not know what. Perhaps he is the new secretary? Perhaps Dubois employed a more sensible man, one not as showy as you. Perhaps he has given up on you already?’

Deroches moved to stand in front of him before nodding. The nod was a cue to his men who grabbed Benoit and pinned him to the wall. He could not stop his breathing from speeding up. Aramis was trying to get up again, Benoit knew the Musketeer wanted to help him but was in no state to do so. Benoit wished Aramis would stay where he was and not put himself in more danger. 

‘Turn him around, it will be easier.’

At Deroches’ words, he was forced around to face the wall, the two men pressed him firmly against the stone. Benoit was terrified again. Despite knowing that Aramis was only a few feet away, he felt utterly helpless. 

‘What are you doing? Leave him alone,’ yelled the Musketeer. 

‘Shut that one up,’ said Deroches.

Benoit was aware of movement behind him but could not see what was done to silence Aramis. 

‘I want to know how fond of his secretary Dubois is,’ said Deroches in his ear. 

The man was close enough that Benoit could feel his breath.

‘I don’t think a clump of your stupid hair was enough...let’s send him something more substantial, shall we?’

Benoit felt his knees buckle at the implication. Deroches meant to cause him real harm. Aramis was complaining again, his words muffled by a gag, Deroches did not react to the Musketeer again.

One of the men pinning him to the wall grabbed his wrist and pulled his arm out to the side, pressing his wrist into the wall. Out of the corner of his eye, Benoit saw a heavy-looking knife being wielded by Deroches. The landowner stepped in close to him again, he grinned and held the knife close to Benoit’s face. He wanted to move away from the sharp-looking blade but was being held too firmly to move even an inch. 

Deroches took over holding his wrist, pressing down over the back of his hand, forcing him to keep his fingers flat against the stone. Benoit could not help a hiss of pain. He watched with shock as the knife was pressed against his smallest finger above the second joint. Deroches intended to cut his finger off.

Benoit screwed his eyes shut as he felt the blade slice into his finger. The strong knife held by the powerful hand of Deroches crushed into his finger. Benoit screamed, he could not help it, he tried to pull away, but the men held him still. He was aware of Aramis’ muffled shouts from behind him. The hand on his wrist released him before he felt something tug at his hand, he did not want to think about what was happening but knew it was his finger being ripped off. Deroches had crushed and sliced at his finger enough to cut it off completely. 

With no warning the men holding him stepped away, Benoit collapsed to the ground, breathing hard, watching the blood seeping through his fingers as he clutched his left hand tightly and tried not to pass out.


	6. Chapter 6

Carlos watched as Louis-Charles tried to remain focused on Porthos and Athos as they outlined the plan. His master had barely said a word that morning, he looked tired and drawn, he had obviously not slept. The worry about Benoit and now Aramis had overwhelmed the man. His usually calm and kind-hearted master was a shadow of his usual self. Carlos looked forward to the moment they would reunite Louis-Charles with the two men that had been taken from him. 

Benoit was a flamboyant man but he was the friendliest master Carlos had ever had the pleasure to work for. None of his Captains or Generals could hold a candle to the way Benoit ran the house. Carlos knew that the running of a large house was usually the domain of the wife of the landowner and Benoit had embraced that role with aplomb much to their shared amusement. 

Aramis, the soldier and former lover of Louis-Charles, was a man of integrity and courage, Carlos knew Aramis would keep Benoit safe and do whatever he could to get them both free. Carlos would not be surprised to find the two men escape without help. And then the rest of them could deal with Deroches without him holding a trump card against them. 

‘Senor,’ said Carlos, when he had decided the Louis-Charles was in no state to be with them, ‘you need to rest-’

‘I know,’ said Louis-Charles with a shake of his head, ‘but I can’t…’

‘It is a good plan. Porthos has a good eye for strategy, we will deal with it,’ continued the former Spanish soldier. 

Louis-Charles nodded with a wan smile. 

‘Monsieur Louis-Charles?’ asked Sophie from the doorway. 

Carlos looked at the young woman, she was pale and appeared a little scared, she was biting her bottom lip, waiting for the master to acknowledge her.

Louis-Charles nodded for her to continue.

‘They’ve come to see you…’

‘Who?’ asked Louis-Charles. ‘I can’t be dealing with visitors.’

‘It’s Deroches…’

They all stared at her for a few moments. Carlos found it difficult to understand why the scheming landowner would have turned up as early as he had. He was not due to arrive until much later with his agreement of sale. 

‘What does he want?’ asked d’Artagnan.

The young Musketeer, who’s outward calm belied how worried he was about his missing lover, had risen from his seat at the table and taken two steps towards the door.

‘Why don’t we let him tell us?’ suggested Porthos. ‘Do you think you could manage a conversation with him?’

Porthos looked at Louis-Charles who was shaking slightly. 

‘We will wait in the next room, you need only raise your voice if you feel too threatened,’ said Athos who had read the situation well. ‘If we were to arrest him now it might leave Benoit and Aramis in danger. I suspect he has guessed that Aramis is a soldier. Deroche is probably expecting more soldiers in the area. If he does not return, they might be hurt.’

Louis-Charles looked at Athos for a few seconds before glancing at Carlos. Carlos nodded slowly. He agreed with Athos. The visit was unexpected, but they could all guess it was merely to underline the threat and request to sell the land. Louis-Charles took a deep breath and nodded, partly to himself and partly to the assembled men. 

‘Show them in Sophie,’ he said.

Carlos quickly walked to the other door and pulled it open, he ushered the Musketeers out, pulling the door almost closed behind him. They were able to see most of the room through the gap.

Sophie returned with Deroche and two of his men. The young woman quickly retreated from the room. Deroche, wearing a dark green doublet, walked up to Louis-Charles who managed to stand his ground despite the obvious fear he was feeling. Deroches sneered. 

One of the thugs with Deroche was carrying a small parcel tied with a narrow ribbon. The brown paper package was held lightly by the man who looked as though he was not particularly pleased to be holding it. 

They could not hear what was being said. Louis-Charles became a little worked up but did not call for help, he took a step towards Deroches who merely laughed at him. Deroches was probably making his demands again. He lay some papers on the side table, Carlos guessed they were the contracts of sale. Perhaps Deroches planned to return later once they had been signed. The landowner beckoned the thug with the parcel forward. He said something to Louis-Charles before handing him the parcel. Louis-Charles looked at the parcel with confusion before watching Deroches make a small bow, an insulting gesture. The sneering man laughed again as he walked from the room, his two thugs following closely behind. 

As the door was closed Louis-Charles untied the ribbon around the parcel, opening up the papers. As they opened the door to join him, Louis-Charles cried out, dropping the parcel on the table and crumpling to the floor. 

They rushed forward. Carlos reached Louis-Charles at the same time as Porthos. Louis-Charles had not passed out but seemed very close. He was blinking back tears and breathing quickly. 

‘Senor?’ 

Louis-Charles clung to Carlos, his fingers tightly around his arm. Carlos eased the man up, with Porthos’ help they moved him to the couch where they lay him down. 

‘Oh…’

Carlos looked towards d’Artagnan who was looking into the package that lay on the table. He could see the contents, a severed finger, laying on a bloody cloth.

‘It’s Ben’s,’ said Louis-Charles between gasped breaths, ‘he’s cut my Ben’s finger off… he… he…’

Louis-Charles was white, Carlos almost wished the man would pass out, the shock of the latest development in the sordid affair had taken its toll on him.

‘Aramis is a good field medic,’ said Porthos. ‘He will look after Benoit. He is very resourceful.’

Louis-Charles stared at the package, ‘this has gone far enough, I have to let him have the land. I don’t want my Ben back in pieces-’

‘No,’ said Athos sternly, causing Louis-Charles to look at him with confusion. ‘Deroches has gone too far now. We are not now, simply helping Aramis’ friend to deal with a bully. We are dealing with an attack on two… three if we count Aramis, citizens of France. Deroches is threatening you and has taken two men captive for no other reason than to make a gain for himself. He is a man who needs to be brought to justice.’

Louis-Charles did not look convinced. Carlos could see that his master was conflicted and confused. Porthos was next to speak with authority.

‘We will still enact the original plan, but where we were merely going to liberate Benoit and Aramis we will now also be arresting Deroches. Before we would have warned him off, shown him that he cannot behave in such a way. But he has overstepped the mark now. Even a man of noble birth is not above the law.’

Louis-Charles absorbed the information.

‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Just… please be safe… I don’t want anyone else being hurt over this… it’s just land… it’s just possessions. Their lives - and yours - are more valuable.’

MMMM

Benoit could not help feeling embarrassed, despite the serious situation he wished he had behaved differently. His actions immediately after Deroches had attacked him were strange to him. But then, he had to remind himself that he had never been in a similar situation before. And he hoped to never be in one again. When the thugs had gone Benoit could not make a thought properly form in his head. His reaction to being touched was quick and violent. With no one holding him he could strike out. And he had. He had pushed back with a force that had surprised him. As his mind finally focused, he looked at Aramis who was looking back at him. The already injured Musketeer was sprawled across the cellar floor slowly pushing himself back up.

'It's alright Benoit,' said Aramis calmly.

Benoit shook his head apologetically.

'You didn't mean to push me. It was a natural, defensive, move.'

As Aramis erased himself back up, Benoit went back to looking at his hand. He did not push Aramis away a second time. The Musketeer gently turned Beniot's hand over, inspecting the wound. He glanced around the cellar, his gaze stopping on the rag that had been used to gag him during the assault on Benoit. Aramis grabbed the cloth.

'It's the best we can do at the moment,' he said. 'Once we get out it will need to be cleaned. I don't think it will need stitches...'

'Once we get out…'

Aramis smiled at him. Benoit wondered how the man could remain so calm.

'You have to remain positive. We will be rescued, or we will escape.'

Benoit took a deep breath and nodded. The soldier was correct. He knew alone he probably would not stand a chance. But his lover had enlisted help and although the plan had gone awry, they were still in a better position to get out than he had been a few hours before.

Aramis wrapped the cloth around his hand firmly.

'Keep the pressure on it for now," said Aramis, before helping him to sit against the wall.

As Aramis eased himself around to sit Benoit noticed fresh bruises on his face.

'You're hurt,' he said.

'I distracted Deroches... just not enough.'

Aramis managed a sad smile.

'I have my own war wound now...'

'We just have to stop you from gaining anymore.'

Benoit guessed that Aramis was trying to keep him distracted from the pain and shock.

'How long before they come back do you think?'

Aramis looked at the door for a few seconds before replying.

'Deroches will want to make his delivery first.'

Benoit looked at his hand again. He realised what Aramis meant. Deroches was going to take his severed finger to Louis-Charles. His lover would be distraught.

'I guess you've been in worse situations,' said Benoit, not wanting to dwell on what was happening outside.

Aramis huffed out a laugh. Benoit realised the soldier was sat with his arm wrapped around himself again; he wondered if Aramis even knew he was doing it.

'Yes,' sighed the soldier, 'you are not the most difficult mission I have been on.'

'And you've been in the Chatelet... Luc didn't really talk about it much and he was only there for a couple of days, but he's had dreams. Simon said there's been a couple of times when he's had to wake Luc up…'

Benoit realised Aramis had not reacted to his words. He turned to look at him. The soldier was staring into the distance. Benoit wondered if he was counting the bricks on the wall opposite.

'Sorry,' he said, 'You probably don't want to talk about it, I... I talk too much... I know I'm over the top... I…'

Aramis moved his hand to rest on Benoit's leg. 

'It's alright. I don't talk about it much. Not now, I talked it through with d'Artagnan afterwards. It was the most scared I've ever been. I was terrified I'd give him up, that they'd break me, and I'd name d'Artagnan as my lover…'

Benoit moved his hand to cover Aramis'. He wished he had not said anything, but the need to fill the silence, to distract himself from the pain had won out.

'I'd rather be on the battlefield,’ said Aramis after a while. 'All men are equal there. No one cares who you want to sleep with... who you love. All they care about is if you are fighting with them or against them.'

Both captives stared at the door when they heard a scratching sound. Benoit was convinced Deroches was back. But what would he want next? They scrambled up. Benoit tried to emulate Aramis, to look defiant. He was not sure he was carrying it off very well.

The small hinged flap at the base of the door moved slightly. Benoit guessed it was being opened from the other side. Aramis pushed himself away from the wall and took a couple of steps forward. The Musketeer moved to stand slightly in front of him in a protective manner. Benoit doubted Aramis could do much to protect him, he was obviously suffering from his earlier beating and how roughly he had been treated when Deroches had visited them. 

The flap was pulled back, Benoit could not help crouching down, his curiosity was piqued. Aramis took another couple of steps forward as well, sinking to his knees in front of the door. They were both surprised to see a young woman looking back at them. Her wide eyes darted from one man to the other.

‘Collette?’

Benoit moved closer to the door. He had recognised the lady’s maid by her blonde curls. The young woman managed a weak smile.

‘Madame sent me. She said that she knew that you had been hurt.’

Collette looked at Benoit’s hand which he was holding protectively in front of him. She looked away for a few seconds before pushing a bundle through the gap at the bottom of the door. Aramis took the bundle, allowing it to fall open in front of them. Bandages and two small flasks.

‘Water and alcohol… to clean the injuries,’ said Collette.

‘Can you get us out?’ asked Aramis.

Collette shook her head.

‘You should get out of the house,’ said Aramis. ‘It’s not safe here…’

Collette nodded, ‘we guessed you had friends coming to help you. You’re a soldier, aren’t you?’

Aramis nodded, ‘you should leave, take your mistress… it’s going to be dangerous here…’

Collette looked away again before shaking her head.

‘My mistress won’t go and I’m not going to leave her. The master, he hit her yesterday when she asked what was happening.’

‘Is she alright?’ asked Benoit.

Collette nodded sadly, ‘she’s used to it.’

Benoit noticed Aramis shaking his head in disgust. Marie Deroches had been an abused wife since she had married the overbearing noble. Their marriage, one intended to unite their respective families had been one of politics, not love. Benoit and Louis-Charles had always felt sorry for her.

Collette made a small gasp and looked away again.

‘I have to go,’ she said hurriedly before moving away, closing the hatch as she went. 

Aramis tried to reach the small doorway but was too late to stop her from locking it, they could hear the bolt being pushed across on the other side. It would not have been a big enough gap for either of them to get out through, but it might have helped their escape in some way. 

‘Do you think Deroches wife will be loyal to him… she’s pregnant, that might change the way she thinks.’

Aramis looked back at Benoit who shook his head, ‘there’s no love between them. Marie’s scared of him.’

Aramis nodded to himself, Benoit wondered what the soldier was thinking. He watched as Aramis looked around the room again for a few seconds before turning his attention to the cloths and flasks lying on the floor between them. 

‘It’s going to hurt when you clean it, isn’t it?’ asked Benoit.

Aramis smiled and nodded, ‘and you need to be quiet. We don’t want them to know we’ve had a visitor. It could put Collette and Marie in danger.’


	7. Chapter 7

Simon stood quietly watching the soldiers prepare. He wondered if what he was seeing was anything like when they went into battle. He supposed it was a battle, just on a much smaller scale. They were about to fight injustice and liberate two prisoners. 

Porthos and Carlos were going to team up with him. Or rather he was going to team up with them. Carlos had told Simon that he would be fine, that he would rise to the occasion despite the nerves he felt. Simon, who had been shaking as Carlos handed him a gun had nodded, he knew he would be able to help, but hoped he would not get in the way or become a liability. Porthos had told him to hang back if they became embroiled in a swordfight and to only step in if it was necessary. They had told him he would be useful as a guide and an extra pair of eyes. Simon was not so sure but wanted to help. 

Luc seemed much calmer and was not showing the same signs of anxiety. His friend, Simon could not bring himself to refer to Luc as the stable boy, looked ready for action. He had taken the gun and the sword that Carlos had handed him and looked at ease as he slipped them into the old weapons belt that had been given to him. Simon guessed the need to rescue the man that had saved his life was helping Luc. Luc had said several times in the few months he had lived on the estate that he would do anything for Aramis and now he was going to get his chance. 

Simon had wondered what d’Artagnan would be like as they went into battle. Would the man be distracted by his worry for his lover? The answer was a resounding no. If he was distracted, he was not showing it in the slightest. Athos had spoken to d’Artagnan at one point, the two were checking their weapons at the time. Simon could tell Athos was asking if d’Artagnan was alright, d’Artagnan had responded with no uncertainty that he was fine. Athos had nodded his approval before returning to the task at hand. 

All the soldiers were professional in their actions. Evan Carlos, who had swapped his cook's apron for a long black doublet, was ready. The Spaniard was almost unrecognisable, his dark hair, which was usually pulled back, was loose, making him look quite fearsome. 

Simon watched Carlos cross the room to Louis-Charles who was watching the activities from the side, a slightly unfocused look on his face. 

‘Take this,’ said Carlos, holding out a gun.

Louis-Charles took the weapon hesitantly.

‘It is unlikely anyone will come here, they will be busy with us at the house,’ said Athos. ‘But you should be prepared. Have Sophie close all the windows and lock all the doors. Keep away from the windows.’

Louis-Charles nodded, ‘thank you,’ he said, a shake evident in his voice, ‘I can’t thank you enough for what you are doing. But please be careful… I feel so useless.’

Louis-Charles looked down; Simon felt sorry for him. His master, who was usually so confident and sure of himself seemed broken, a shadow of his former self. 

It was d’Artagnan who offered Louis-Charles the reassurance he needed, ‘you’re not a soldier. You’re not meant for this type of thing.’

Louis-Charles glanced at Luc, ‘Luc and Simon are going with you-’

‘Because they are young and quick,’ said Carlos, ‘you would be a liability.’

Louis-Charles managed a smile and a nod.

‘Remember I would sooner give up the land than lose them… or see any of you hurt,’ reiterated Louis-Charles.

The soldiers nodded.

‘Let’s give Deroches what he deserves,’ said Porthos firmly before walking with determination towards the door. 

MMMM

Luc was pleased the others thought that he was calm and ready for action. In reality, he was very scared, but his years selling himself had meant he could hide the fear well. He could be screaming inside but outwardly tending to the needs of whichever man was paying him for his services. Now he was carrying a gun and a sword, both of which he knew how to use, but not with the proficiency that the Musketeers with him had. Athos and d'Artagnan were both formidable swordsmen. He just hoped he would not let them down. D’Artagnan had told him he should hang back, rather as they had told Simon, and only to step in if necessary. Carlos had told the Musketeers that Luc was good with the gun, Athos had told him to use that skill if he had to, but only as a last resort. 

The little band of rescuers had quietly made their way onto Deroches land. They had avoided a couple of patrols before reaching the point where they were to split up. Simon was going with Porthos and Carlos. They were aiming to liberate the prisoners whilst Athos, d’Artagnan and he were going to arrest Deroches. 

The Musketeers had glanced at one another, Luc could tell there were silent communications between them. Requests for each of them to be careful. Luc liked the unspoken camaraderie they all had. 

D’Artagnan led them towards the side of the large house, keeping low behind a clipped hedgerow. The full moon was not helping their attack, lights from within the house spilling out onto the lawns also hindered their approach. 

As they reached the window they were presented with a problem. The window was too high for them to easily climb in. D’Artagnan looked at him before looking up at the window, he braced himself against the wall and cupped his hands in front of him. Luc understood, he stepped forward, using d’Artagnan as a step he pulled himself up to the window. He could feel Athos’ hand on his back keeping him steady as he reached for the catch. Using a dagger Louis-Charles had lent him he eased the latch up before quietly pushing the large window open. He paused for a few seconds, peering into the darkened room. He could see light under the closed door across from the window but could not hear anyone nearby. 

After pulling himself into the room he crept across to the door and listened intently for a few more seconds before returning to the window and beckoning the two Musketeers to follow him. D’Artagnan helped Athos up before Luc helped Athos to pull d’Artagnan into the room. 

Athos led them to the door and eased it open, peering out for a few seconds before stepping out into a hallway. 

Luc had never been in the Deroches house before, it was a little smaller than Louis-Charles’ but impressive, nonetheless. Expensive looking furniture and ornaments lined the large hallway. Life-sized portraits adorned the walls, Luc recognised Deroches in one and the wife of the noble in another. 

His awe at their surroundings was soon ended as three men appeared from another room. Athos and d’Artagnan stepped forward, drawing their swords as they went. The three men responded in kind. Luc drew his own sword nervously. He watched as Athos took on two of the men whilst d’Artagnan started to fight with the third. Their sword strokes were impactive and deafening in the enclosed space. Luc hoped the heavy doors would muffle the sound from the rest of the house.

One of the two men fighting Athos stepped close to the swordsman and tried to push him into a side table. Athos responded by forcefully pushing the man away a few steps. The man, wearing a plain leather doublet and plain pauldron was about to step back into the fight but glanced in his direction. Luc knew he would have to react. He did not want to distract either Athos or d’Artagnan from their own fights. The man stalked towards him, an evil sneer quirking his lips. Luc raised his sword, pleased his arm was not shaking. The man lunged towards him in a move that surprised Luc, who managed to step aside. Luc realised in an instant that the man recognised him and thought that he was incapable of fighting back. Luc used that misinformation to his advantage. He sliced across the man’s torso firmly. The effect was instant, the man cried out and collapsed to the ground, clutching at the wound for a few seconds before going still, either unconscious or dead. Luc stared at him.

It was a few seconds before he realised the sword fighting behind him had stopped. He jumped slightly when he was touched on the arm. He looked around to find Athos looking at him with concern.

‘I… I had to,’ said Luc.

Athos nodded, ‘you did the right thing. I saw your move, it was good. Carlos has taught you well.’

Luc tried to suppress the pride he felt but could not. Athos, the man who had doubted him when Aramis saved him, Athos, the man who had been cold towards him to start with, was praising his ability with the sword. 

‘In different circumstances, I would not hesitate to recommend you for our regiment,’ said Athos quietly and with sincerity. 

Luc noticed d’Artagnan smiling and nodding behind Athos. Luc could not help a small smile of his own. 

‘Come on, you may have more work to do before we are finished,’ said Athos, his attention back on the task at hand. 

MMMM

Simon acted as the lookout for Porthos and Carlos as the two seasoned soldiers dealt with the door lock. Porthos was crouched down working on the lock with a pick he had pulled from his pocket, Carlos was holding the covered lantern as close as he could, the dim light it gave off from the one uncovered side just enough for the Musketeer to work with. 

A crunch of gravel drew Simon’s attention. He tapped Carlos on the shoulder and pointed in the direction of the two shadows that were moving towards the corner of the house, a patrol. 

A soft click from the door told Simon he did not need to worry. Porthos had picked the lock. They stole into the house silently; Simon quietly closed the door just as the two guards rounded the corner. 

‘What are you doing here?’

Simon took a step back towards the door as the servant walked towards them. Carlos stepped forward. The servant stopped, looking the cook up and down, taking in his weapons and that of Porthos who was standing next to him. 

‘Oh…’

Carlos spoke quietly, ‘you know Deroches has taken Benoit? Has him somewhere here.’

The servant nodded, ‘are you going to kill Deroches?’

‘We plan to arrest him,’ said Porthos. ‘There is another group of soldiers dealing with Deroches. We’re here for Benoit and the soldier that was taken prisoner.’

The servant glanced behind him, ‘are you going to arrest us as well?’

Porthos shook his head. The servant looked visibly relieved; Simon could understand the man’s fear. The servants were just that, servants to a nasty master. They were as frightened of him as his wife was and the villagers a few miles away. 

Carlos put his hand on the servant's arm, ‘you should go. All of you. Quietly and quickly, go to the village, wait there until it is safe for you to return. We will deal with your master and his thugs.’

The servant looked at Simon who nodded, ‘these are good men. You know Carlos would not lie to you,’ he said.

After a few moments thought the servant nodded, he turned to go before pausing and turning back.

‘Benoit and the soldier, they’re in the cellar. They beat the soldier up to try to get him to talk but he wouldn’t. And I heard Benoit screaming a few hours ago. I don’t know what they were doing to him…’

Simon knew about the assault his friendly master had endured, he hoped that was the extent of Benoit’s injuries. Simon noticed the anger on Porthos’ face when he heard that Aramis had been assaulted as well. They knew both the captives had been hurt but that did not make it any easier for the soldiers. Simon knew they were close friends and watched out for each other. 

The servant slipped away, Simon could hear him talking in the kitchen, a couple of gasps from the female servants the only sound from the rest of the staff. As they made their way towards the main house Simon noticed the staff pulling on their cloaks and disappearing out of the servant's entrance into the darkening night, towards the village and safety. 

They found a corridor with a few doors leading from it. At each door, either Porthos or Carlos paused to listen, after a few seconds they would tentatively open the door, their hands never far from their weapons. Simon followed the two soldiers, glancing back frequently, watching out for any of Deroches’ men. 

‘Please don’t hurt us…’

The quiet plea came from a softly spoken woman. Simon peered around Carlos. Porthos was standing in front of two women. Deroches wife and her maid. Madame Deroches was pale; she had one hand in front of her as if to fend off the potential attack from Porthos, the other hand was clutched to her stomach covering her pregnancy protectively. The maid, Collette, Simon remembered her visiting Sophie a couple of times, was standing in front of her mistress, a small dagger in her hand. Simon knew the dagger would do little more than scratch Porthos before he would be able to take it from her. 

Porthos, his hands out to show he was not holding a weapon, calmly walked up to the maid and took the dagger. 

‘We ain’t going to hurt you.’

Carlos stepped forward, ‘you know why we are here,’ he said.

Madame Deroches nodded, ‘I asked Collette to take them some cloths for their injuries.’

Collette, her blue eyes wide, stuttered, ‘they...they said we should leave...that more men were coming. Monsieur Benoit had an injury to his hand. The other man, he was bruised, they beat him when they caught him.’

‘But they were both conscious, making sense?’ asked Porthos, obviously worried about the captives' wellbeing. 

Collette nodded.

‘Good,’ said Porthos as much to himself as to the maid. ‘You should both leave. Please, it would be safer.’

Madame Deroche stepped forward, clutching Collette's hand, ‘we will monsieur. I have no love for him. Do what you have to do.’

‘Go to the village,’ said Carlos, ‘we’ve already sent the staff there. You’ll be safe there.’

The two women nodded. Porthos and Carlos stepped aside so that they could pass, Collette led her mistress towards the servant’s quarters. Simon watched them go, both women looked scared but determined. 

‘That just leaves Deroches and his men,’ said Carlos. 

‘Good,’ said Porthos. ‘Let’s go and liberate Aramis and Benoit.’


	8. Chapter 8

Benoit gasped, he could not help himself, he had tensed up when Aramis removed the temporary bandage from his injured hand. He took several steadying breaths. He realised Aramis was holding his shoulder firmly. Benoit opened his eyes and looked at the Musketeer who was looking back at him, a worried expression on his face. 

‘It’s alright,’ said Benoit after a few seconds. ‘I’ll be quiet.’

Aramis nodded. Benoit watched as the soldier dampened one of the cloths and began to clean the wound, his gentleness a surprise. 

‘You’ve done this before?’

‘I’m a field medic,’ said Aramis without looking up.

‘I remember d’Artagnan saying when you visited before,’ said Benoit. 

He had stayed up late talking with d’Artagnan and Carlos. They had talked of bloody battles and skirmishes over wine. The wine had made the wars seem tame. Benoit had changed his mind about the life of a soldier very quickly since he had been taken captive. The romantic idea of the glory of the win had been wiped away when he had seen what trained men were capable of. Deroches men were soldiers who were unscrupulous and happy to be paid to hurt people for no reason. Benoit wondered if honest soldiers like Aramis and d’Artagnan were few and far between. 

Aramis readied the alcohol. He looked at Benoit for a few seconds seeking permission to use it. Benoit nodded and held his breath. The sting of the alcohol on the wound quickly turned to a searing pain that seemed to fill his body. But Benoit did not cry out, after a few seconds the pain faded away, he looked back down as he managed to get the tension to leave his body.

‘Alright?’ asked Aramis who was holding both his shoulders firmly as Benoit rode out the pain. 

Benoit nodded. Aramis waited a few more seconds before going back to his work, he wrapped one of the cloths around Benoit’s hand before tying it firmly.

‘Once we’re back, I think you should have a physician look at it. Keep a close eye on it as it heals up. And I think it goes without saying that you should try not to knock the wound until it is healed.’

As Benoit gradually settled his breathing, he nodded his understanding. 

‘I suppose I should feel lucky it was only a finger he chopped off...I’m sorry they hurt you again.’

Aramis dismissed the apology with a wave of his hand, ‘I’ve had far worse, believe me.’

‘The more I think about it the angrier I am at him. Deroches is doing all this just to get Louis-Charles to give up his land. He’s using me as a bargaining tool.’

Aramis smiled, ‘use that anger,’ he said.

Benoit looked at him, he did not understand what Aramis meant.

‘When we get out of this room, we’ve still got to get out of the house. It’s possible the others are on their way to release us, but we cannot rely on them, we have to consider ourselves alone. We are likely to meet some of his thugs...I might not be able to deal with them on my own.’

Benoit could not hide the shock. 

‘I’m not a fighter,’ he said. ‘I can spar and shoot but I’m not a violent man.’

‘I know, but you might have to be. You’d be surprised what you are capable of when you have to be.’

Benoit nodded slowly as Aramis continued.

‘But at the same time, don’t put yourself in danger. Louis would never forgive me if I let something happen to you.’

‘Take your own advice on that,’ remarked Benoit, ‘he still loves you and he’d be devastated if something happened to you.’

Aramis looked down for a few seconds, a slight look of embarrassment on his face. Benoit realised the soldier was not sure how to respond.

‘I don’t mind,’ he said. ‘He knows that your relationship with him is over. I think he will always love you though, but he is very happy that you are happy with d’Artagnan.’

Aramis finally looked up, ‘I guess we will have to make sure we both get out of this in one piece then.’

Benoit laughed, holding up his hand, ‘more or less in one piece…’

The moment of levity was cathartic to Benoit. He sighed and leaned back against the wall; his hand was not hurting as much as it had been but a constant throb acted to continually remind him of the assault. He watched as Aramis absentmindedly tidied the flasks and remaining cloths away before staring at something in the corner of the room. The Musketeer tilted his head slightly as though he were thinking about something complicated before glancing at the door. 

Benoit knew Aramis had come up with a way for them to attempt an escape, he was determined to help in any way he could. He was determined not to leave his lover a broken man. He would return to Louis-Charles. Benoit was determined that both he and Aramis would return to the man who loved them both. 

MMMM

‘We will probably have caused enough noise to bring more men,’ Athos had said as they moved away from the large hallway.

The Musketeer had been correct. As they moved into a long hallway, they were confronted by six men. Luc recognised Deroches amongst them. 

They moved towards each other, Deroches expression could only be described as murderous. Luc saw both d’Artagnan and Athos pull their guns. The landowner and his men were only armed with swords. Athos calmly shot the closest man in the shoulder. The man was not dead but would play no further part in the fight. D’Artagnan was unlucky to miss with his shot as the man he aimed at ducked to the side. Luc decided against using his gun, he knew he was fairly good with his aim but the fear of hitting either Athos or d’Artagnan was too great. 

Two men surged towards Athos forcing him back a few paces. Deroches and a man Luc was sure was the leader of the guards moved towards d’Artagnan leaving one man heading for Luc who raised his sword in readiness. 

The man he was fighting was his age which surprised him. What surprised him more was that the man was not very good with his sword. Luc could not understand how the young man had come to be in Deroches employ when he personally vetted each man with a test of skill. As Luc crossed swords with the nervous youth, he realised the man looked very similar to Deroches lieutenant. Perhaps the man was a younger brother. Luc did not care; he had a job to do and he was going to do it to the best of his abilities he was not going to let Athos down. He was going to continue to help in the rescue of Master Benoit and Aramis. 

A yelp from behind him told him that Athos had dealt with another man. As the body hit the floor the man was joined by the leader of the guards. The lieutenant looked shocked as he stumbled to the floor clutching at a gaping chest wound. The distraction proved to be Luc’s opponent's undoing. As the man looked around a shocked expression on his face Luc twisted his sword, as Carlos had taught him, and punched the man hard in the head with the pommel knocking him senseless. 

Deroches made several quick thrusts at d’Artagnan forcing him back a few paces until he hit the wall. Rather than press his advantage the landowner turned and ran from the corridor disappearing through an archway out of sight. D’Artagnan did not hesitate in following. 

Luc was torn, he did not know if he should follow d’Artagnan or stay for Athos who was still fighting the last man. The fight was fast-paced the two men looked evenly matched. Luc did not think he would be of any help if he tried to fight the man as well. Instead, he checked the men on the floor. One was dead or would be in a matter of minutes and the other two were unconscious. The man that Athos had shot was still breathing steadily but was losing blood from the wound to his shoulder. None of the men would cause them any more problems. 

A grunt behind him made him turn back to see Athos pulling his sword from the chest of the man he had been fighting. The Musketeer was panting slightly from the effort of the fight. They looked at each other for a few seconds. 

‘D’Artagnan?’

‘Gone after Deroches,’ said Luc pointing along the corridor. 

Athos nodded before picking his way around the fallen men, looking each of them over as he did so. He nodded his approval of the varying states of health. 

‘Did you knock that one out?’ asked Athos. 

Luc nodded. 

‘Good move. We do not need to kill these men… Let’s see how d’Artagnan is getting on with Deroches.’

MMMM

The battles of years before were at the forefront of Carlos’ mind. The thrill of the charge. The fighting, even the retreating all held their place in his memory. Those days were gone, events had conspired against him, he could no longer return to his homeland, he would be branded a deserter. And to admit to his Spanish heritage where he was would lead to questions and the inevitable accusations that he was a spy. 

Carlos was not a spy. Carlos was a soldier who had been unfortunate. 

And then very lucky to have been found by Senor Louis-Charles who, with a kind-hearted, non-questioning, attitude had taken him on as his cook. Carlos would be forever grateful to the man for giving him a chance to live a normal life. 

But creeping down towards a cellar to liberate wrongly imprisoned men, working with one of France’s fine soldiers and being treated as an equal was quite simply the most fun Carlos had had in years. Although he would not tell anyone that he was enjoying himself.

Porthos glanced back at him and Simon as they reached the bottom of the stairs. The capable Musketeer had something of the spy about him, thought Carlos. He had no issue working with the man or following his lead because Porthos had treated him as an equal from the start. A kindred spirit, a fellow soldier. 

The Musketeer slowly opened the door that would lead them to the cellar. Simon grabbed a lantern from a shelf near the door, Carlos nodded his approval, they had no idea what was beyond the door. The lantern was the sort that could be covered quickly if they needed to slip into the shadows. 

They listened intently for a few seconds before lightly stepping forward, the three men were very alert. Carlos knew that although Simon would defend himself, he might not have the skill to take on more than one man at a time. But any help the groom offered would be useful.

Porthos pointed along the dank corridor towards a couple of doors just before a turn. Carlos nodded and moved forward. They all stopped when they heard a noise around the corner. Carlos looked back at Simon who was wide-eyed, he nodded towards the lantern. The groom quickly shuttered the sides to leave them with only the dimmest flicker of light.

The light was enough for Carlos to see Porthos creep towards the corner, his main gauche in his hand. 

‘The very fact that you are creeping along the corridor implies to me that you shouldn’t be here either,’ came a familiar voice. 

Carlos could not help a smile as he watched Porthos react to his friend's words. The Musketeer pushed himself away from the stone wall and stepped forward as Aramis moved into view. Porthos grabbed him in a smothering embrace before pushing him back to arm's length and looking at him quizzically. 

‘I am beaten. I am bruised, but I will be fine,’ said Aramis. 

‘And you must be Benoit?’ asked Porthos. ‘I take it my friend has been looking after you?’

‘He said he had come to rescue me… and he has, after a fashion. I’ve never seen a lock picked before it was really quite impressive.’

Aramis held up the dagger he must have used.

‘One of them must have dropped it,’ said Aramis. ‘Unfortunate for them that they dropped it in our cell.’

Carlos looked the two men over. Aramis was indeed battered. He had clearly been beaten, he was trying not to show it, perhaps without realising it, but he was in pain. Aramis was a soldier, he knew how to carry on, how to work through the pain. When they were done, when the dust had settled, then he would need tending to. But Carlos was sure the Musketeer would carry on without complaint until that time. 

Poor Benoit was a different story. The usually vibrant man was trying to put on a brave face, trying to show his usual humour but Carlos could see the man was nearing the end of what he could deal with. Benoit had been assaulted, attacked viciously, for no other reason than to use him as a pawn for Deroches gain. The bandage around his hand hid what would be a permanent reminder of the incident. Carlos did not like to see people being used. 

‘Where are the others?’ asked Aramis, as he took one of Porthos’ guns.

‘Looking for Deroches. The plan is to arrest him, but we wanted you two out of the way in case he tried to use you against us.’

Aramis nodded, ‘we should get Benoit back to Louis-Charles.’

Carlos looked to Simon who seemed a little awestruck with Aramis. Carlos was not surprised that the Musketeer had escaped on his own, but to the untrained man, it was probably an impressive feat. 

‘Simon,’ he said, ‘perhaps you could take Benoit back. You can update Louis-Charles that we have got the staff and Madame Deroches away. He will be worried about their safety as well.’

Simon nodded; he handed the lantern to Porthos.

Benoit rested his hand on Aramis’ arm, ‘thank you,’ he said before looking at the rest of them, ‘thank you all for what you’ve done for me… for us.’

‘Just get back to Louis safely,’ said Aramis, ‘that will be thanks enough.’

Benoit nodded with a smile before he allowed Simon to usher him back along the corridor.

‘Just keep quiet and low until you are away from the house,’ said Porthos, ‘there might be more men around, but if you keep out of sight you should be fine.’

Both men nodded before disappearing back up the stairs. 

‘You sure you’re alright to carry on?’ asked Porthos.

Aramis smiled, ‘I am going to feel it later, but right now I just want to see Deroches arrested for what he did to Benoit.’

Carlos watched the smile falter, he guessed Aramis was reliving the attack on Benoit. He wondered if the Musketeer had tried to intervene but been prevented. Carlos did not think Aramis would have been able to watch without interfering, he suspected some of the bruising the man had was due to his inability to keep out of the way.

Porthos looked at Aramis for a few seconds. The two men were obviously close and could read each other well. Carlos missed that camaraderie with a fellow soldier. After a few seconds, Porthos had made his decision.

‘Take a step back if you need to, I’m not carrying you back… I doubt Louis-Charles would forgive me if something happened to you…’

Carlos chuckled as Aramis slapped his friend on the arm before taking the lead back up to the main part of the house. 

MMMM

'Are you sure you saw them heading this way?' asked Athos, glancing back at Luc.

The stable boy nodded They had been searching for a few minutes, with no sign of d'Artagnan or Deroches. The large house did not want to give up the missing men. Luc was pleased that they had not encountered any more of Deroches men. Despite Athos telling him he might have made a good Musketeer; Luc was not sure he could cope with the violence the role required.

He followed Athos further along the corridor. They were pausing frequently to check each room they passed. Athos pointed at a couple of upended vases and an ornament out of place. Luc noticed a fancy rug that had become rucked up. They knew they were on the right path to finding d'Artagnan. Athos stopped suddenly before grabbing him and pushing him into the wall, indicating for him to be quiet at the same time. 

Athos stepped back, pulling his gun. A door was pushed open slowly. Luc watched, wide-eyed, as Athos raised the gun, his concentration fully on the door. Luc held his breath. When Athos smiled and lowered his gun he knew he had seen the others. He took a couple of steps forward. He could not help a smile of his own when he saw Aramis. His saviour grinned back at him, before grabbing him in a brief hug.

'Somehow,' he said, 'I knew you would want to help.'

Luc nodded but did not reply, he moved out of the way, knowing there were more pressing issues. Porthos quickly updated Athos with what had happened in the cellar. Luc was pleased Benoit was on his way to safety. He wondered if Aramis should have gone with him. His saviour did not look well. The Musketeer was covered with bruises, but he knew the soldier was made of strong stuff. He had survived the Chatelet.

'D'Artagnan?' asked Porthos, who was looking around.

Luc watched Aramis, the realisation dawning on him that the younger man was missing showing on his face.

'He went after Deroches. We were following him.'

Aramis took a couple of paces forward.

'Perhaps, we should get after him?' he suggested.

Athos and Porthos exchanged glances, Luc wondered what silent communication was passing between the two men. Porthos shrugged his shoulders slightly and followed Aramis. Luc guessed that they were worried about Aramis but had decided that there was no chance of stopping him carrying on. Particularly as long as d’Artagnan was missing. Athos shook his head and indicated that they should continue their search. Luc and Carlos followed the three Musketeers. 

Luc could only imagine what was going through Aramis’ mind at that moment. He had just been held prisoner, escaped and had been thrown straight into a worrisome search for his lover. Aramis was trying not to show how badly injured he was and how concerned he was. Luc guessed that Aramis knew what Deroches was capable of, his bruises certainly seemed to indicate that. 

The trail of destruction that he and Athos had been following when they encountered Aramis, Porthos, and Carlos, led them further through the house, towards the back. They found a couple of smashed ornaments and what looked like the impact of a sword on a sideboard. The blade had been swung hard into the wood. Luc did not like to imagine the fierce fight that had raged between the two men. 

As they turned a corner the sounds of swords clashing could be heard, they all quickened their pace, breaking into a run when a single gunshot rang out. The noise was deafening within the walls of the house. The corridor opened out into a large room with couches and cushioned chairs arranged in neat groups. Two of the chairs had been knocked over, a table was on its side, the plates that had been on the table strewn across the polished floor. 

D’Artagnan was lying on the floor with one hand clutched to his leg. He was twisted onto his front, his gun in his other hand aiming at the open door that led out onto the rear of the house. A light breeze coming in from outside was causing the fire and torches to flicker, casting dancing shadows about the room. D’Artagnan was breathing hard and did not seem to be aware of their presence.

‘Did he run?’ asked Porthos.

D’Artagnan looked back at them, a look of surprise quickly followed by concern on his face when he saw Aramis.

‘Don’t you dare start asking how I am,’ said Aramis as he eased himself down to his knees by d’Artagnan.

‘Sorry,’ said d’Artagnan breathlessly, ‘he managed to get me pushed back against the table and forced me to move away from him. The balls only grazed my leg… it’ll be fine.’

D’Artagnan rested his hand over Aramis’ stilling his inspection of the bleeding wound.

‘He made a run for it, yes,’ continued d’Artagnan, not taking his eyes off Aramis as he spoke.

Aramis glanced at the open door. Carlos took a few steps towards the door and peered out. 

‘He will have gone to Senor Louis-Charles. He will know there is nothing to lose.’

‘Go. Aramis, it’s really only a graze. Make sure Louis-Charles is safe.’

Luc could tell Aramis was struggling to make the decision to leave his injured lover. He knew he could solve the problem. 

‘I’ll stay with him. Help him back. The rest of the guards are gone or dealt with. We’ll be fine,’ said Luc, crouching on the other side of d’Artagnan.

Porthos and Athos were already following Carlos out of the open door. Aramis hesitated for a few more seconds. 

‘Go,’ said d’Artagnan firmly.

‘Don’t take any risks,’ said Aramis looking at both d’Artagnan and Luc. 

Both men nodded. 

‘You either,’ said d’Artagnan.

‘Use a cloth or something to dress the wound. I’ll deal with it properly once you’re back at the house. Try to keep off the leg as much as possible.’

Aramis looked at them both again before rising, trying and failing to hide a wince, and making off after the others. 

D’Artagnan watched him go, Luc could see the concern on his face. 

‘He says he’s fine,’ Luc said. ‘That he’ll feel it later but for now he can carry on.’

D’Artagnan smiled, ‘typical,’ he said.


	9. Chapter 9

Carlos could hear the three Musketeers following him, their light footsteps sounding loud in the quiet of the night. He knew they were happy for him to take the lead; he knew the lay of the land. It was yet another concession from the soldiers. They had accepted him as one of their own, included him from the start in the planning and execution of the plan. Porthos was right behind him, Athos a few paces further back with Aramis bringing up the rear. Carlos knew full well that Aramis was at the back of their little group because he was hurting. The exchanges that Athos and Porthos had shared told Carlos they were aware of the man’s injuries. But Carlos knew what it was like to need to see something through despite the pain. He had been on the battlefield, he had fought until the point of collapse and then somehow found more energy to carry on. It was what any good soldier did. 

Carlos had also been impressed with the young Musketeer. D’Artagnan had seen the slight indecision in Aramis, the pain and worry clouding his judgement for a few seconds. D’Artagnan had told his lover to go after Desroche. The two men obviously shared a very equal relationship. Carlos approved. He had no issue with the manner that Louis-Charles and Benoit lived their lives, they were not soldiers. They could behave with a slightly unbalanced power between them. It was Louis-Charles’ money after all. But the two soldiers could not afford to be worrying or causing worry to each other when they were in battle. 

The full moon which had hindered their approach to Deroches house now helped them as they made their way back to Louis-Charles. His master’s life was in danger, Deroches was probably at a point where he did not care about the consequences of killing a man. He had already maimed Benoit and been responsible for one Musketeer being shot and another being beaten. 

They reached the sweeping path that led to the house, not quite running but not far off, they made their way along it. Carlos could see light from a few of the rooms. He hoped they were in time. He pulled up to a stop when he saw something lying on the path ahead of them. The something moved. 

It was Simon.

He rushed forward, reaching out to the groom who flinched away from his touch.

‘No, get off me,’ Simon’s voice was filled with fear. 

‘It’s alright,’ said Carlos, ‘it’s alright.’

Simon blinked a few times, his rapid breathing and shaking only adding to the worry Carlos felt.

‘Can you tell us what happened?’ asked Porthos who had crouched beside the young man.

Even in the low moonlight, Carlos could see bruises forming on Simon’s cheek, a nasty graze across his forehead probably told them what had happened better than the explanation they were about to get.

‘Deroches,’ said Simon with a shudder. ‘Benoit was grabbed from behind and pushed away, he fell over there, crying with pain… I tried to pull Deroches away, but he hit me, then he kicked me. I’m sorry I couldn’t get up straight away. I couldn’t breathe.’

Simon paused, he looked at each of the men, he looked ashamed. 

‘It is alright, Simon. What happened then?’ asked Athos.

‘He… he pulled Benoit up and dragged him towards the house. They went off round the back, I lost sight of them.’

Aramis had taken a few steps towards the house, ‘why’d he go round the back? If he had Benoit as a bargaining tool, Louis would have just let him in.’

Porthos rose from his crouched position, ‘probably wants to check there’s no more of us around before he makes his move. He’ll know that he can’t easily get in. He’ll know all the doors and windows will be locked and shuttered.’

Carlos nodded his agreement to Porthos’ statement. 

‘Go, senores,’ he said. ‘I will help Simon and watch out for Luc and d’Artagnan. Go and help my masters.’

Aramis nodded his thanks as he turned towards the house. Carlos could see the determination in the Musketeer. The pain had been pushed aside. Aramis was ready for the final fight, the anger he had towards Deroches was being channelled into energy. Not for the first time that night Carlos longed for the thrill of battle. The end game, the final moves, he knew that it would soon be over. 

MMMM

Benoit stumbled again, Deroches pulled him upright. 

‘You’re a pathetic man, you know that don’t you?’ said the noble.

Benoit sniffed, he felt pathetic. When he and Aramis had escaped the cellar and found Carlos, Simon and the other Musketeer, he had felt quite empowered. He had not really done anything himself to escape but he had managed to keep himself calm and helped Aramis when the Musketeer had first been put in the cellar with him. 

But now, after being pushed to the ground and seeing poor Simon knocked about by their thuggish neighbour, now Benoit felt very pathetic. His hand was bleeding again and he could not think through the pain. He was aware that Deroches was guiding him around the house to the servant's door.

Benoit knew that Louis-Charles had to be alone in the house apart from Sophie. All the other members of the household and the Musketeers that had been sent to help them were back at Deroches house looking for the landowner. 

Louis-Charles might have been a capable man in his younger years, but he had not needed to defend himself in at least a couple of decades. They both went hunting and occasionally spared with swords but not to an extent that Louis-Charles would be competent enough to deal with the much more skilled Deroches. The situation was bleak.

Deroches pushed him down the few steps to the kitchen door. He tried the handle when he found it locked he simply took a step back and kicked at the door a couple of times until it swung open, the lock split, splinters of wood falling to the floor. 

Benoit found himself grabbed around the neck again and pushed ahead of Deroches, through the kitchen and up the stairs to the main hall. 

Deroches stopped at the top of the stairs and raised his gun. Benoit saw the terrified look on Sophie’s face as she stared at them both. She was about to scream but stopped when the gun was pointed directly at her.

‘Run along little girl. If you’re still here when I’ve finished with your masters… you will be next… and I will have much more fun dealing with you…’

Sophie was visibly shaking, Benoit managed to nod to her to do as Deroches said. She backed away a couple of steps before fleeing from the hallway towards the large dining room. Benoit hoped she would hide herself away or get out of the house completely.

‘Let’s find your master, shall we? I’ve had enough of the pair of you.’

As Deroches started to force him to walk forward again they both stopped. Louis-Charles was standing in front of them. Benoit had not seen him appear but saw the open door next to him. Louis-Charles was holding a gun, which he was aiming at Deroches. 

Deroches laughed, ‘do you actually think you could shoot me? I can see your hand shaking from here. The chances of you hitting your secretary are so high that I could probably simply stand next to him and not get hit.’

Louis-Charles continued to point the gun at Deroches. Benoit could see the fear in his eyes. His lover was scared, Benoit had never seen him scared before. Worried, but not in fear of his life. But there was something else, something that Benoit could not work out. 

‘Let him go. You know you’re not going to win. The soldiers will arrest you.’

Deroches laughed again, ‘exactly I have nothing to lose… And all the soldiers are still looking for me at my house. I shot one of them, so they aren’t even all looking…’

Benoit wondered who had been shot. He noticed that Louis-Charles did not react too much to the statement. Surely his lover would have been wondering if it was Aramis who had been shot. 

Benoit shuddered and tried to pull away as Deroches twisted his arm around his neck and moved the gun to point at his head. He scrabbled at the arm but Deroches was a much stronger man and in a better position. The move caused Louis-Charles to waver slightly. 

‘I am going to shoot you and your secretary. Then if she’s still here I’ll find that little simple maid you have and shoot her, after I’ve had some fun. Then I’ll go back and find your groom, he’s probably still whimpering on the path, and I’m going to shoot him.’

Deroches twisted the gun, pressing it into Benoit's head. Benoit stared at his lover; he could not begin to imagine what Louis-Charles would do. There was no chance of him being able to shoot Deroches now that he was standing almost behind him.

The gunshot, when it happened, was deafening. 

MMMM

As Louis-Charles had stepped into the hallway levelling the gun, he prayed his former lover would be true to his word. Benoit looked terrified. He was dishevelled and bleeding from the wound to his hand. Deroches had a firm hold of him. 

Deroches laughed, ‘do you actually think you could shoot me? I can see your hand shaking from here. The chances of you hitting your secretary are so high that I could probably simply stand next to him and not get hit.’

Louis-Charles knew the man was correct, his hand was shaking. But it was not his shaking that was worrying him. If Benoit moved at the wrong moment it could prove fatal for his lover. Benoit’s whole attention was on him, he wished he could tell his lover what the plan was, that there was a plan. But he could not give himself away, he could not risk Benoit getting hurt any more than he already was. 

‘Let him go. You know you’re not going to win. The soldiers will arrest you.’

Deroches laughed again, ‘exactly, I have nothing to lose… And all the soldiers are still looking for me at my house. I shot one of them, so they aren’t even all looking…’

Benoit had an almost quizzical expression. Louis-Charles realised he had perhaps not reacted enough to the statement about one of the Musketeers being shot. 

Louis-Charles had to work hard to hold his ground when Deroches twisted his captive and moved his gun to point at Benoit’s head. Benoit had tears in his eyes as he tried to pull the arm away from his neck. Louis-Charles hated to see his lover in such distress. 

‘I am going to shoot you and your secretary. Then if she’s still here I’ll find that little simple maid you have and shoot her, after I’ve had some fun. Then I’ll go back and find your groom, he’s probably still whimpering on the path, and I’m going to shoot him.’

The threats to his staff almost proved his undoing, they had done nothing to the landowner other than work for Louis-Charles. 

He flinched when the gun was fired, he was glad he had not had his finger on the trigger of the gun he was holding. He knew he could have easily pulled it accidentally.

A silence fell for a few seconds. 

Benoit had his eyes screwed shut. Deroches had his eyes wide, but they were not seeing anything anymore. A large chunk of his head was missing, the bits were sprayed across the hall and dripping down the walls. As he collapsed, Benoit was pulled down with him, ending in a crumpled heap on the floor. 

A flurry of activity followed. The Musketeers emerged from their respective hiding places. Porthos and Athos pulled the body off Benoit who seemed very disoriented. 

Aramis, his handsome face, marred by bruises appeared in front of Louis-Charles who managed to focus on him. Aramis took his hand and gently took the gun from him before leading him to Benoit who was being helped to sit up by Porthos. Louis-Charles sank to the floor by his lover before gathering him up in his arms and holding him tightly. Benoit was shaking, his sobs muffled by their closeness. He was aware of movement around him, the body of Deroches was taken away. The front door was opened, more people, he guessed Carlos and Simon entered the hallway. He heard Carlos saying they had seen Luc and d’Artagnan walking slowly along the path towards the house. Porthos had said he would go and help them telling Aramis to see to Benoit. 

Hands on his shoulders and arms made him finally look up. Aramis was smiling at him.

‘I need to see to his injuries,’ he said.

Louis-Charles nodded numbly and allowed Athos and Aramis to help them both up and lead them into the blue room. He was aware of d’Artagnan being brought into the room and settled on the couch. He saw Carlos cleaning the grazes to Simon’s face and Sophie being sat by the fire and a sweet drink being given to her by Porthos who remained by her side for some time. 

Aramis cleaned and dressed the wound to Benoit’s hand, Louis-Charles kept his lover in a firm embrace as he rode out the pain of the ministrations. 

The blur of activity gradually settled.   
Luc was dispatched to the village to check on Deroches' wife and the staff. Athos helped Carlos to sort food out for them all before one by one they retired to bed. 

‘Has anyone looked at Aramis?’ asked Benoit as Louis-Charles held back the covers for his lover to climb into their bed. 

Louis-Charles thought for a moment. He shook his head.

‘I know he was knocked about a bit. Was he injured?’

Benoit chuckled, ‘he was beaten by them. He tried to pretend he was fine. I had to make him sit down for a bit. The others were obviously concerned about him.’

Louis-Charles thought about the few hurried moments when the Musketeers had reappeared in his house. He had seen that Aramis had been injured but his former lover was not showing signs of it being serious. 

‘You know he lies,’ Benoit reminded him.

‘Perhaps I should check on him?’

Benoit nodded, ‘I’ll be fine for a few minutes, trust me, I do not intend to move from this bed for several hours.’

Louis-Charles leaned over him and kissed him, pushing his hand through his lover's hair. 

‘I think you will look just as handsome with it short.’

Benoit looked down for a few seconds.

‘We’ll talk… like Aramis and d’Artagnan do. We mustn’t bottle it up.’

Benoit nodded.

‘Go and see to your former lover. I will be happier if I know he is being looked after as well.’

Louis-Charles smiled, ‘I won’t be long.’

MMMM

‘Aramis, you need to sit down,’ said d’Artagnan.

Louis-Charles could hear the young Musketeer talking to his former lover. The door to the bedroom they were sharing was still open. Louis-Charles guessed that Aramis had not closed it since helping d’Artagnan through. 

‘I’m fine.’

‘You’re not. If I was able to get up and walk around the bed, I would be forcing you to lie down. You’re bruised and battered; you just used your last ounce of concentration saving Benoit and patching us all up…’

Louis-Charles moved to stand in the open doorway. Aramis had his back to him, he was holding onto the post at the corner of the bed, his arm was shaking, it was obvious he was exhausted. To everyone but the man himself. D’Artagnan spotted him over Aramis’ shoulder and silently pleaded for help. Louis-Charles moved forward as Aramis turned to see who d’Artagnan was looking at. As he turned, he lost his balance. The excesses of the previous few hours had caught up with the Musketeer. Louis-Charles had to be quick to grab Aramis and push him to sit on the edge of the bed. 

‘I’m fine.’

‘No, you’re not,’ both Louis-Charles and d’Artagnan said together. 

Louis-Charles glanced at d’Artagnan, ‘would it be inappropriate for me to help him to bed and maybe check his injuries?’

‘I’m fine.’

‘I would be grateful,’ replied d’Artagnan, ‘I am rather stuck with my own injury.’

Louis-Charles sympathised with d’Artagnan who had looked quite uncomfortable as Aramis had cleaned and dressed the wound to his leg, Athos and Luc had been forced to hold him still. They knew the Musketeer would be stiff the following morning and was in for an uncomfortable ride back to Paris. Although Louis-Charles had every intention of insisting they stay for a couple of days, he would say he wanted to ensure none of Deroches men were still in the area. But they would all know it would be for the injured men’s benefit. 

Aramis had given up trying to pretend he was alright. He allowed Louis-Charles to ease his shirt off. D’Artagnan managed to suppress a gasp as the extent of the beating Aramis had received was revealed. 

‘How are you even still walking about like this?’ asked Louis-Charles. 

Aramis just looked at him, ‘practice. I needed to be alert. I had to get Benoit to safety. I didn’t want him to worry about me… as it was, he was the one that looked after me initially.’

‘He told me he had to make you sit down…’

Aramis managed a grin. D’Artagnan rolled his eyes. 

‘Head wounds. We all react differently to them. Sometimes they don’t affect us at all, sometimes we get confused,’ said d’Artagnan. ‘He’ll be fine...once all that bruising has gone down.’

Aramis finally looked defeated by his current and former lover. Louis-Charles bent down in front of him and pulled his boots off him, noting the wince of pain from Aramis as he did so. After Aramis had undone his breeches Louis-Charles helped him to slip out of them, pulling his stockings off at the same time. Further bruising was revealed on Aramis’ legs.

‘Lie down,’ said Louis-Charles firmly. ‘Do you have something for the bruising? If not, I am sure Carlos will be able to make something up. Simon had a bad fall from a horse a few months ago, the salve that Carlos created worked wonders.’

Aramis glanced at his medical bag, ‘I doubt I have enough for this… and it would help.’

D’Artagnan smirked, ‘can you look after him next time he gets injured as well?’

‘I’m older than he is, I was his… teacher… shall we say.’

‘When you’ve both quite finished,’ said Aramis, unable to hide the embarrassment as his current and former lover compared notes. 

Louis-Charles shook his head, ‘don’t go anywhere, I will speak to Carlos. And I’ll get some water so I can clean those grazes.’

MMMM

_Two days later ___

__Louis-Charles managed to persuade the Musketeers to stay for two days. The time gave Aramis and d'Artagnan a chance to recover from their injuries sufficiently that when they did leave their journey was not going to be as uncomfortable as it could have been._ _

__Once Louis-Charles had managed to calm his whirling thoughts the morning after the rescue he had managed to take charge of proceedings. He felt he owed it to his friends and servants after all they had done for him. Benoit, although battered and still a little unfocused, had been at his side making suggestions the entire time._ _

__The first thing they had done was to ask Marie Deroche to come and stay with them for a few days. Athos had suggested it would not be suitable for her to stay in her own home until the bodies of Deroches men had been removed and the damage tidied up. Athos and Porthos had coordinated the burial of the bodies with Deroches’ staff._ _

__Marie had gratefully accepted the offer. Collette and Sophie had done a very good job of sorting out a room for her and making sure she had what she needed. Louis-Charles would be the first to admit he did not really know how to entertain women._ _

__They gathered for a meal the night before the Musketeers were due to depart. Louis-Charles invited the servants to join them in the dining room. They were to dine as equals._ _

__Marie seemed to like the relaxed way that Louis-Charles ran his home._ _

__‘My husband thought he was better than everyone else,’ she said. ‘Things will be different now.’_ _

__It was obvious now that Madame Deroches was over the initial shock of her husband's death, she was starting to come out from his shadow. Even in the couple of days since she had escaped the house, she seemed more confident._ _

__Louis-Charles smiled, ‘anything I can do to help you, you only have to ask. What will you do now?’_ _

__‘I’ve written to my husband's Uncle,’ replied Marie, ‘he is a much gentler man than my husband was. If my child is a girl, he will be the one who inherits. But I cannot see that he will leave me without an income. And if I have a boy…’_ _

__‘He will take after his mother, I am sure of it,’ said Benoit with one of his winning smiles._ _

__Marie returned the smile._ _

__Louise-Charles was pleased his lover was starting to show signs of his normal self again. Benoit had allowed Carlos to cut his uneven hair the morning after his liberation, it had been a difficult thing for him to get through, the shock of it all threatening to overwhelm the former captive with every cut of the scissors. Louis-Charles had been careful to make sure his lover understood that he was still as handsome, although it did make him look quite different. Benoit was still a little jumpy and quiet. Louis-Charles had talked to Aramis who had assured him that Benoit’s behaviour was perfectly normal. They were confident Benoit would recover and get back to his usual self, they just needed to give him time._ _

__The morning after Louis-Charles had tended to Aramis’ injuries his former lover had found him in his rose garden. Louis-Charles had been completely unaware of Aramis walking up to him, despite his uneven gait and slightly shuffled steps. They had sat and talked for a while, in a similar manner to when he had helped Aramis those few weeks before, but with their roles reversed. Aramis was a good listener. The conversation had helped Louis-Charles to put all that had gone on into perspective._ _

__Now Aramis, whose assorted bruises and injuries were still making him move very stiffly, was busy charming Collette and Sophie with tales of Paris and the upper classes._ _

__D’Artagnan was watching with amusement in between conversations with Porthos, Carlos and Simon._ _

__Athos and Luc had been deep in conversation for some time. Louis-Charles could tell that Athos was impressed with the way Luc had handled himself and Luc, in turn, had felt very proud to be included in the rescue party._ _

__As his friends and servants enjoyed their meal and gradually relaxed, Louis-Charles could not help feeling grateful. He knew he would not have been able to deal with Deroches on his own. Carlos had initially taken charge when he could not even get a thought straight in his head. Simon, who was not the most outgoing lad when it came to strangers, had managed to travel to Paris to get help. Sophie had been very brave throughout the whole ordeal. Even Madame Deroches and Collette had played their part, getting provisions to the captives._ _

__Benoit leaned closer to him._ _

__‘And to think,’ Benoit said quietly, looking across to Aramis who was laughing at something, ‘if you hadn’t saved him, all those years ago, you wouldn’t have had a friend who had more friends to call on for help.’_ _

__Louis-Charles smiled, ‘I wasn’t thinking about needing him nearly two decades later when I stopped him being attacked,’ he said with a chuckle. ‘But you’re right, circumstance and serendipity have more than played their part.’_ _

__Benoit looked around the table for a few seconds before pushing himself to his feet._ _

__‘I’d like to propose a toast,’ he said. ‘To friends. Old and new. And to a brighter future.’_ _

__Benoit glanced at Marie as he spoke the last part of his brief toast, she smiled back graciously._ _

__They all raised their glasses and drank._ _

__Louis-Charles smiled, his nightmare had ended, he had his lover back. It had been horrific; the most scared he had ever felt. The worry for Benoit and then Aramis had almost overwhelmed him. But with his friends, old and new, he had got through it._ _

__The End._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
